


Friday, I'm in Love

by lachatblanche



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik You Slut, Erik is a Dick, M/M, Mildly Cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 96,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on an old prompt from the kink meme:</p><p>Erik works in a bar. Charles goes to this bar every Friday to get tipsy. One day, his colleague Alex challenges Erik, claiming that he'll not be able to get into Charles' pants. Erik never loses a bet and doesn't see a big problem 'cause Charles is apparently a lush and always seems to enjoy Erik's company. And hey, Erik always wins. Always. So, one night he seduces Charles and they have hot, glorious sex.</p><p>But when Charles shows up the next day at the bar (it's Saturday, Charles usually only comes on Fridays) Erik is annoyed and decides to ignore him in order to make sure that Charles understands that it was just a one-night stand. Charles eventually gets the hint and leaves. </p><p>The next Friday, Erik is startled when Charles doesn't show up. And the Friday the following week he also doesn't show up. Erik starts realising that he misses Charles presence, his humour and entertaining stories. </p><p>So he tries to find Charles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the kink meme ages ago (I'm talking years here) but never managed to finish it. I've always intended to go back to it but I never got around to it. So this is me, going back to it and attempting to finally finish it - after trying to clean it up and slowly rewriting bits of it, of course (it's amazing how much your writing can change in the space of a few years!) 
> 
> Title has changed from the one used on the kink meme (because I can't remember it!)

‘Hey there, handsome, going my way tonight?’

Erik scowled inwardly as he was hit on for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. He knew that as a bartender – a ridiculously _hot_ one, at that – he should be well used to being continually hit on by now, having worked the job for a number of years. Possessing this knowledge, however, did not change the fact that Erik was a surly bastard by nature. He could only count himself lucky that the figure of the Silent Brooding Barman was apparently considered to be quite attractive by the poor misguided clientele of the _Genosha_ bar. (It was either that or his customers were formed solely of dim-witted, masochistic idiots. Erik still hadn’t quite decided on that one).

Erik was never wholly receptive to the admiration he received from Genosha’s patrons but he was usually tolerant of it, accepting it as his due: he knew how good-looking he was, after all, so it was only natural that people tried to flirt with him. He normally had few reservations about taking what was on offer – he was a _bartender_ , not a monk – but tonight was different. Tonight he was busy and had a lot on his mind and was in no mood to be pawed at by drunken women who probably already had boyfriends or husbands waiting for them at home. His bad mood was only exacerbated by the fact that he had a deep-seated, unmitigated _loathing_ for hen-parties, a hatred which wasn’t helped by the presence of a member of said flock who was currently attempting to win his affections by actually _daring_ to touch his bicep in a bid to get his attention. It was taking all of Erik’s patience – what little he possessed, at any rate – to keep from elbowing her in the face and going back to focusing more important things. Like watching other people get hideously wasted, for instance.

Just as he was coming to the end of his tether, a friendly hand clapped down on his arm, dislodging the persistent harpy on the other side of the bar.

‘Hey man, you’ll never get any work done if you keep flirting with the customers,’ Alex, the other bartender for the night (and Erik’s sort-of-maybe friend) grinned at him even as he hastily steered Erik away from the disappointed young lady at the bar.

Erik scowled at his rescuer but allowed himself to be led away calmly enough. He figured, rather grudgingly, that he probably ought to thank Alex. If he hadn’t intervened when he had then Erik would’ve no doubt been facing a very expensive lawsuit in the near future: from what he could gather, it wasn’t considered very good form to elbow young ladies in the face, even if they _had_ been harassing you for hours together.

‘Wasn’t flirting,’ Erik grumbled instead, glaring down at the floor. ‘She was the one talking all night long, not me.’

Alex snorted, letting go of Erik’s arm. ‘Yeah,’ he said, smirking slightly. ‘Women tend to do that when they want in your pants.’

Erik scowled. ‘Well I wish they would _stop_ ,’ he gritted out, throwing a glare at the room around him as if to warn off any other potential admirers. Judging by the abrupt u-turns made by a few people, it seemed to have worked.

Alex shrugged. ‘No objections here, means there’ll be all the more for me.’ He eyed Erik speculatively. ‘We really ought to get you laid, though. That temper of yours has been building for weeks and I _know_ you haven’t been getting any for a while now – not since that Magda chick up and left you.’

Erik’s brow lowered, his dark mood suddenly even darker at the mention of the woman who had run out on him the moment that he had hinted that he just _might_ prefer something more than a series of random one night stands. There was a reason that Erik indulged solely in one night stands in the first place, and the incident with Magda had only convinced him that he had been right – there was simply no place for feelings in the bedroom.

Alex continued speaking, apparently oblivious to the silent but ever-present _We-Do-Not-Talk-About-Magda_ rule. Erik supposed he shouldn’t judge Alex _too_ harshly for forgetting it; after all, sometimes _Erik_ forgot that the man he worked with was a brainless _idiot_.

‘Listen man,’ Alex was saying in a surprisingly earnest voice. ‘Just because this one girl went and stomped on your heart-’ a _completely_ brainless idiot, then ‘- doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t get any at _all_ , you know? You’re a guy – you _need_ sex. It’s – like – _necessary_ or something. I mean, you’re probably going through withdrawal now.’ He met Erik’s eyes with an almost touching expression of supplication. ‘Dude, seriously – you need to get laid.’

‘If you don’t stop speaking about my sex life immediately then you are going to spend the next hour picking glass shards out of the side of your face,’ Erik said pleasantly in response, his eyes on the beer glass that he was conscientiously wiping down with a rag. He wouldn’t want any potential wounds on Alex’s handsome face to get infected, after all.

Alex gulped, his eyes darting to Erik’s large, competent hands and the glass clutched between them. He swallowed. 

And then, like the brave idiot he was, he went on speaking. 

Erik really despaired at the youth of today. Completely and utterly brainless.

‘No, seriously – you should find someone,’ Alex urged. ‘Just for the night, I mean. And – I know, you’re still into this Magda girl, but – you swing both ways, right? Well then find some _guy_ to take home and screw the brains out of so you won’t be reminded of her! It’s literally _that_ easy!’

Erik was unable to keep quiet at that. ‘Actually it’s not!’ he snapped, turning to face Alex with a snarl. ‘I can’t just –’ He paused at the look on Alex’s face and instead took a deep breath. ‘I know you think that I am some sort of master of magnetism,’ he said tightly. ‘But trust me on this – it’s _not_ that easy.’

Alex snorted and placed his hands on his hips, an eyebrow in the air. ‘Really?’ he asked flatly. ‘Not that easy? Dude – you knew that Magda chick for like two days. Meanwhile, there are people in this very room _gagging_ to go down on you. Hell, I’d do it myself, if I didn’t know what a complete dick you really are. Honestly, what exactly about this situation is “not that easy”?’ His expression turned speculative again. ‘Unless …’

‘Alex,’ Erik warned.

But Alex wasn’t listening. ‘Unless …’ he said slowly, ‘Unless you’ve never actually picked a guy up before …?’

Erik didn’t say anything. He just gritted his teeth, glared, and valiantly resisted the urge to kick Alex. Hard. In the groin.

His silence was apparently all the confirmation that was needed.

‘You haven’t!’ Alex crowed in delight. ‘ _Seriously?_ Oh man, I’d ask if you were one of those poor, repressed sons of bitches, but that can’t be right because I’ve _seen_ you making out with guys before. No, wait, hold on-’ his eyes widened, ‘I’ve got it. You’ve never hit on a guy because _they_ always hit on you first! You’ve never actually had to make the first move before!’ He let out a gleeful laugh before grinning wickedly at Erik, his arms folded across his chest. ‘So go on then, Lehnsherr, tell me – just what _is_ your pickup strategy? Do you even have one? Do you prefer the cheesy lines or do you just go in, caveman style and sling them over your shoulder?’

‘Keep talking Alex,’ Erik said lightly, smiling at the customer he was serving through gritted teeth. ‘I personally think you’ll look very fetching with no front teeth.’

Alex smirked. ‘Man, you really need to work on your compliments – you won’t be picking up anybody if the rest of your lines are like that!’

‘Keep going like that and the next line you’ll hear will be the one telling you that you’re fired.’

Alex’s expression immediately fell. ‘I just want you to get laid!’ he burst out petulantly, looking at Erik with a hurt, almost baffled expression on his face. ‘Do you understand that? I just want to _help_ you, Erik! Why won’t you let me _help_ you?’

‘I don’t need any help getting laid!’ Erik growled, scowling and trying very hard not to think about how long it had actually been since he had last had sex. Things had just been … busy lately.

‘See, I can’t even _talk_ to you when you are like this!’ Alex whined, gazing at him pathetically. ‘You’re just so … you’re such a _dick_ , you know?’

‘Yeah well, I don’t think that sex will solve _that_ particular problem,’ Erik turned the full force of his shark-like smile on Alex.

Alex shuddered. 

‘Please!’ he tried again, his tone earnest. ‘For _my_ sake.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll swap shifts with you.’

‘You _do_ know that I already have the best shifts around here, right?’

‘That’s a no?’

‘That’s a no.’

‘I’ll give you fifty bucks.’

‘Tempting, but no.’

Alex’s eyes bugged out. ‘Dude, what is _wrong_ with you, I’m literally _paying you to have sex_!’

A woman who had approached the bar stiffened and quickly walked back the way she came.

Erik couldn’t suppress a smirk. ‘Maybe I just like fucking with you,’ he drawled.

Alex’s nostrils flared and he had to force himself to take a deep, calming breath. A moment later, however, a strange glint entered his eye. ‘Yeah,’ he said slowly, casually. ‘Right. Sure, that makes sense. I totally get it. _That’s_ the reason why you don’t want to do it …. It’s got absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’re _scared_.’

Erik’s back went stiff. ‘What?’ he asked, his voice dangerously low.

‘You heard me,’ Alex bravely plastered on a smirk, well aware that he was sliding into decidedly perilous territory. ‘You’re just scared that you won’t be able to. That you’ll suck at picking up guys. That you’ll be _rejected_!’

‘I’d shut my mouth, if I were you,’ Erik warned.

‘I bet you can’t!’ Alex said quickly, sensing victory – or perhaps just his own untimely death. ‘I bet you can't pick up a guy and get him to take you home ...’ he glanced at his watch, ‘- within the next hour.’

‘Is that so?’ Erik said silkily, striding towards him, each step forward mirrored by Alex’s one step back. ‘And just _what_ exactly would you be willing to bet?’

‘Thursday’s karaoke shift!’ Alex squeaked out just as Erik took one last step forward into Alex’s space, their noses inches apart. ‘Thursday’s karaoke shift for the next month! I’ll switch my day off to Tuesdays or something. You won’t have to deal with Sean’s singing and you won’t have to spend a fortune in painkillers afterwards!’

Erik paused, looking suddenly contemplative. ‘That’s … actually tempting,’ he admitted reluctantly. He refocused his eyes on Alex, who couldn’t help flinching a bit. ‘Tell you what,’ he said after a moment, ‘Make it _two_ months, and you have yourself a deal.’

‘ _Two?_ ’ Alex squawked indignantly, recovering a bit of his old fire. ‘Jesus, man, do you _want_ me to go deaf?’ 

Erik just grinned his shark-like smile and didn’t reply. 

_Bastard_ , Alex thought.

‘Fine,’ he said out loud, scowling at the bar around him. ‘I don’t know why I’m even doing this, because I’m _doing you a fucking favour_ , you _moron_ -’ those last words were luckily said under his breath. ‘But yeah. Fine. Two months. If you can pull a guy. In the next hour.’

Erik smirked. ‘That won’t be a problem,’ he said, shoulders lowering as he relaxed. He turned to survey the bar, this time with a predator’s eye. Alex couldn’t help shuddering again. Erik was fucking _scary_. ‘Now, do you have anyone particular in mind?’

Alex blinked. He wasn’t particularly fussed about just who Erik slept with. All he wanted was for the man to have sex with _somebody_ and lighten the _fuck_ up, something that he was now beginning to doubt would ever actually happen in this universe’s reality.

‘Dunno,’ he said, shrugging. He turned around and examined the room, his eyes drawn to the doorway and falling on the first guy who it looked like Erik might have a chance with. He _did_ actually want Erik to succeed, after all, bet or no bet. ‘How about that guy over there, the one who just walked in? The one in the – Jesus, is that a fucking _cardigan_?’

Erik followed his eye line. 

He let out a snort. 

‘ _Charles?_ ’ he said incredulously. ‘You’re kidding, right?’ Then he paused as he contemplated the choice for a moment.

It wasn’t actually a bad idea. Sure, the cardigan was a bit of a travesty, but the fact was that Charles was _cute_. More than cute really, and he had those pretty eyes, and an even prettier _mouth_ … Erik felt his own mouth begin to water as his thoughts attempted to fan out in a multitude of (really quite filthy) directions that weren’t quite as unfamiliar to him as he would have Alex believe. It was with some reluctance that restrained himself, reined his thoughts in, and continued in his silent consideration.

It amounted to this: Charles was hot (admittedly in a dorky kind of way, but hey, hot was hot), he liked Erik (Erik had _seen_ those lingering glances, he wasn’t _blind_ ), and – crucially – Erik liked _him_. 

Well, he amended quickly, he liked him as much as he liked _anyone_ , really – which, truth be told, wasn’t an awful lot, considering that he believed that over ninety eight percent of the people that he encountered in day-to-day life were blithering idiots. The point was, he could _stand_ Charles. He had no objections to being in his presence and he actually found his company rather … enjoyable. Some of the time, anyway.

Charles was a bit of an oddity at the bar. He was a loyal patron who came there every Friday without fail, inevitably got plastered, and then flirted with every living thing in sight – the latter part of which Erik could attest to as fact: they had once had a potted plant off to the side of the bar counter at a time when Alex had been trying to impress a girl (who was a conservationist or tree-hugger or some other hippie-like nonsense that Erik had no patience for) and Charles had proceeded to spend an entire hour complimenting the plant on its fabulous genetic makeup and the healthy colour of its blooms right under Erik’s disbelieving eyes. He had then gone and bought the plant a pint of beer and had ended up pouring the entire pint into the plant pot, which Erik had lamented as a huge waste of perfectly good beer. Alex, on the other hand, had lamented the early and unforeseen demise of his poor potted plant.

The point was, what made Charles so odd was not his drinking or even his excessive flirting (which, astonishingly, actually seemed to work). It was the fact that he would babble on and on about genetics and alleles and heterochrosomethingortheother to anyone and everyone that would listen. Usually, that would just end up being Erik. It wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart, he would hasten to add; it was simply that Erik found genetics really very interesting … and alright, so Charles looked _quite_ attractive when he got carried away and talked and gesticulated with enthusiasm, so sue Erik for wanting to look at something pretty during the dreary hours of his work. 

Besides, it was almost refreshing to have to listen to _intelligent_ drunken babble for a change. Most of the babble Erik usually encountered was mind-numbingly boring enough to send him to sleep – and that was from the people who were still _sober_.

And so their Fridays together had become something of a casual tradition. Erik was always at work on Fridays and Charles always made his appearance on Fridays, without fail. They would casually talk and laugh, Erik refilling Charles’s glass as they went, and the night would end only when Charles pulled some pretty young thing to go home with or when his eyelids started to droop and Erik called a taxi for him. It was … pleasant. Erik enjoyed the fact that theirs was a completely casual friendship; they never talked about anything personal and there were no obligations or expectations between them – they never had to make plans, or compromises, or even make much of an effort – all that was required of them was to turn up on a Friday, and hell, that was what Erik was getting _paid_ for.

Erik considered the man in front of him. He would be lying if he said that he had never considered it – Charles _was_ pretty damn attractive, after all, and with the way he flirted and with lips like those … Well, Erik was only human. It had only been an idle thought, however, and not one that he had ever taken seriously. Now, though … now was different.

‘Alright then,’ he said at last, turning to face Alex and crossing his arms. ‘You’re on. I’ll do it. But I’m ending my shift early.’ He raised an eyebrow as Alex opened his mouth to protest and then promptly shut it again. 

‘Fine,’ Alex grumbled, casting a surly look in Erik’s direction, which Erik naturally ignored.

Erik gave a nod of satisfaction and then quickly moved into the backroom to clean himself up a bit, pausing in front of the mirror on his way out in order to ensure that his hair was still cleanly slicked back and that he didn’t have bags under his eyes. Satisfied, he made his way out from the backroom.

‘Watch,’ was the only thing he said to Alex as he turned around and stalked forward, his eyes dangerously alight and focused solely upon his target, his expression one of intense determination.

Alex watched him with an almost reluctant fascination and silently thanked the heavens that he was not the one on the end of that predatory gaze. He also sent a silent apology towards the poor unsuspecting victim while he was at it. He didn’t really know Charles – Erik usually took care of him when he appeared, every Friday like clockwork – but he was pretty sure that no one really deserved to be set upon by Erik. 

He sighed. It _was_ all in a good cause though, right? He squared his jaw resolutely and pulled a pint of beer for a waiting customer, his eyes fixed firmly on Erik’s back.

Charles was sitting by the bar in his usual seat, happily tapping away at his phone and blissfully unaware of Erik’s approach. Erik, grasping tightly onto a full pint glass, made his way over to Charles, well aware that the way to his bed lay through alcohol. He did not plan to allow Charles to have anything more than that one pint tonight, however; not unless things went badly in his favour and he had to call the whole thing off. Call Erik anything you like, but he did not take advantage of drunk people, particularly when it came to sex. It wasn’t as if he had trouble pulling _sober_ people, in any case – quite the reverse. Had he found Charles to be on the wrong side of tipsy, then Erik would have immediately dropped Alex’s bet and would either have found some other prey to stalk or would have waited for another week to put his plan in motion. Erik may not have been the most upstanding member of society, but he _was_ decent at heart. Just _very_ deep down.

Setting the glass carefully in front of Charles, Erik put on his most charming and dashing smile. It was rather a pity that his most charming and dashing smile made him look very much like an exceptionally toothy (albeit handsome) shark. A hungry one, at that.

‘Hello Charles,’ he purred, making use of his smoothest, sexiest voice – the one which had reportedly melted the panties off at least a dozen conquests in its time. He attempted to produce his best ‘come-hither’ expression but ended up looking as if he was deciding how best to kill Charles instead. ‘Fancy seeing _you_ here.’

Charles looked up from his phone and beamed when he saw Erik.

‘Hello Erik,’ he said, acknowledging the beer with a grateful smile before wryly adding, ‘And I honestly doubt it’s much of a surprise, me being here, considering that I’m _always_ here on Fridays. You know that.’

Erik blinked. ‘Oh. Right.’ He gave an internal sigh of annoyance. Now he needed a new opening. Did Charles _have_ to be so literal? And – apparently – so immune to Erik’s sexy masculine voice? He was making it very hard for Erik to seduce him.

He floundered for a moment, wondering how next to proceed, before settling on playing aloof. The ‘uninterested’ routine was one of many in his arsenal and among the most successful: people always wanted what they couldn’t have, after all. ‘Really, every Friday?’ he asked in a careless tone. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t say I’d ever noticed. Don’t you have anything better to do?’

Charles’s expression immediately dimmed and he looked down at his feet, abashed.

In the background, Alex grimaced and shook his head.

Erik quickly back-tracked. ‘Only joking!’ he said immediately, tripping over his words whilst concealing his anxiety. On top of fearing that he had ruined his chances with Charles he was now also perplexed and bewildered. The sexy voice and the deliberate disinterest had _always_ worked! Only he seemed to have gone and hurt Charles’s feelings instead, which, for some reason, he felt guilty for. ‘Of _course_ I noticed,’ he said quickly. ‘And liked it. Having you, that is. I mean, having you _here_. Can’t think of a better way to spend the evening. My favourite day of the week, Fridays. Love them.’

Charles’s expression immediately cleared up at this bumbling retraction. Then, incredibly, he threw Erik a wicked smile, full of mischief and twinkling eyes, Erik’s gaffe apparently quickly forgotten. ‘Really?’ he asked innocently, leaning forward in his seat with a slight smirk on his face. ‘You like Fridays? Because I wouldn’t have thought so – it’s your busiest night of the week _and_ you work on weekends. What could it _possibly_ be about Fridays that makes them so special?’ He grinned at Erik and batted his eyes at him in what was supposed to be a comical way, but instead just highlighted his stupidly long eyelashes.

It was then that Erik realised that he would really have to brush up on his seduction techniques if he wanted this to pan out, as out of the two of them, Charles was _clearly_ the better flirt.

He licked his lips and decided to give Charles what he wanted. ‘Well,’ he purred, lowering his eyes seductively, ‘I get to see _you_ , don’t I?’ He leaned forward over the counter so that he was very much in Charles’s face, leering.

Charles, however, didn’t seem to mind having his personal space encroached upon, and merely laughed, looking triumphant. ‘I _knew_ that you’d admit it one day, my friend,’ he chuckled, his humour not hiding the genuine fondness in his eyes. ‘I _knew_ that you looked forward to my visits!’

Erik couldn’t hold back a snort. ‘Right, they’re the highlight of my week,’ he drawled, hiding a smile, relaxing imperceptibly. Somehow they had fallen back into the regular banter that they shared each week, which was _much_ easier than flirting. Or – hold on, Erik thought, suddenly taken aback – was _this_ flirting as well? Had their banter _always_ been this flirtatious? He blinked and shook himself in time to hear Charles’s response.

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Charles was saying with a smirk, taking a sip of his beer. ‘You and I both know how much you’d miss me if I stopped coming by.’

Erik rolled his eyes at that. ‘As if _that’s_ likely to happen,’ he said with a laugh. ‘You’ve been coming here every Friday almost as long as I’ve been working here!’

Charles’s cheeks suddenly seemed to redden and his smile became slightly fixed. ‘Well, you know,’ he said, rather awkwardly. ‘I like the old place, and the beer is good …’

Erik watched Charles’s fumbling attempts to extricate himself from the conversation and grinned, his teeth bared predatorily as he leaned closer to Charles over the bar top. _This_ was much more like the scenario he’d had in mind when planning his seduction, before Charles had cocked his plans up by – well, being _Charles_.

‘And what about the bartenders?’ he asked, his voice low and intimate. ‘Are they part of the … attraction?’

Charles visibly swallowed before recovering, switching back to his playful tone. ‘Oh they’re not too bad,’ he said casually, his cheeks still slightly pink even as his eyes twinkled. ‘Can’t say I’d noticed, though.’

‘ _Really?_ ’ Erik purred, and he leaned even closer, making Charles fidget. ‘Because I was _sure_ that I’d caught you staring at my arse a few dozen times … but then perhaps I was mistaken?’

Charles was now bright red. ‘Well – it _is_ a rather spectacular arse,’ he said sheepishly, giving Erik an apologetic smile and causing Erik to leer.

‘Is it now?’ he murmured, voice smooth. ‘And here was me thinking that my appreciation wasn’t reciprocated.’

Charles blinked. ‘Er – what?’ he asked, looking down at his now-empty beer glass as if suspicious of it.

‘You haven’t been the only one admiring attractive arses in here,’ Erik continued, hoping that the words sounded a lot more seductive and less idiotic than he thought they did. ‘And yours, I must admit, is _very_ attractive indeed.’

There was a pause.

‘Huh,’ Charles said after a moment. ‘Right. So. Good to know we’ve got _something_ in common, then.’

‘We’ve got lots more in common,’ Erik said in an off-handed assurance, his mind focused on coming up with a devastatingly seductive line that would guarantee him a night in Charles’s bed. ‘We wouldn’t like each other otherwise, would we?’

Charles’s head jerked up at that, his look of surprise quickly melting into one of pleasure. ‘You think so?’ he asked eagerly.

‘Yes,’ Erik agreed, happy that his words seemed to be paying off and keen to encourage it. ‘Well – I like _you_. And I think you like me too. Even though I suppose neither of us actually really knows the other.’

‘Well … I suppose I _do_ like you, too,’ Charles said, smiling and looking really quite pleased with Erik’s words. ‘And I wouldn’t say that we _don’t_ know each other. It’s not like we’re complete strangers, after all.’

‘Not strangers at all,’ Erik murmured reassuringly, deliberately brushing his hand against Charles’s.

Charles’s breath stuttered and Erik knew that it was time to move in.

‘Look,’ he said quickly, before he lost his nerve and backed out. ‘I get off early today – I’m free right now, in fact – so … do you perhaps want to grab a bite to eat?’

Charles blinked at him before beaming. ‘I’d like that very much,’ he said, sounding cheerful. ‘And food actually sounds like a _brilliant_ idea, right now.’

‘Great,’ Erik gave him a nod. ‘Let me just grab my coat and we’ll go, shall we?’

Charles readily agreed and Erik moved away. After grabbing his coat, he went and brushed by Alex. ‘Be ready to pay up,’ he said with a triumphant smirk. ‘And remember – you’re on your own on Thursdays.’

‘You haven’t slept with him _yet_ ,’ Alex grumbled half-heartedly.

‘Oh, it will happen,’ Erik said confidently, before pushing past Alex and emerging out on the other side of the bar where Charles was waiting.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘Let’s go,’ Charles said with a smile and they headed out of the bar. ‘You have any place in mind?’

Erik shook his head. He actually didn’t have a clue what sort of place they should go to. This wasn’t a _date_ as it was obviously a one night stand, yet he and Charles were sort-of-friends and he had already suggested grabbing dinner so it wasn’t a straightforward one night stand like the ones that Erik was used to either. He comforted himself with the idea that this was probably a little weird for Charles too, or if not, that he knew what he was doing. Who knows, maybe Charles had dinner with all of his conquests before taking them home. He wasn’t a novice, at any rate: Erik had seen Charles pick up quite a few men and women in his time at _Genosha_ , and it had always been obvious that those assignations were temporary both in intention and in fact.

With this in mind, he took a deep breath and allowed himself to simply relax. Being with Charles was easy, he found, even outside of the setting of the bar. There was a comfortable camaraderie between them as they walked through the streets, trying to choose and eliminate places to eat at.

‘You know, Erik, I don’t know why we waited so long to do this,’ Charles said at one point, to which Erik let out a hum of acknowledgement, not wanting to spoil the night by saying that he’d never seriously considered Charles a prospective lay before.

‘I mean – it’s not as if I hadn’t thought of it,’ Charles continued. ‘I was actually ever so slightly infatuated with you when I first met you, if I’m being honest, and I _was_ tempted to ask you back then. I just didn’t know if you’d be interested, I suppose. I’m glad you are, though. I mean, I wouldn’t have minded too much if you weren’t, I like being friends with you just fine, but I must say I’m really quite glad that you are. Attracted to me, that is.’

Erik rolled his eyes. ‘Charles,’ he drawled, turning to face the other man and deliberately letting his gaze run over him from head to foot, making Charles flush. ‘Look at you. How could I _not_ find you attractive?’

A smile tugged at Charles’s mouth even as he flushed with pleasure. He then returned Erik’s top-to-toe stare and his pupils seemed to dilate with every inch that his gaze covered. He took in a long, straggling breath and bit his lip for a moment before seemingly coming to a decision.

He turned his face towards Erik, looking up at him coyly through his eyelashes. ‘Erik,’ he said slowly, his body drifting unconsciously closer to Erik’s, his lowered eyelashes now casting shadows on his cheeks. ‘What would you say to going back to my place and ordering in instead?’

A slow, shark-like smile appeared over Erik’s face. Bingo. ‘I would say that that’s the most sensible thing that I’ve ever heard you say,’ he murmured, lifting a hand to brush a thumb against Charles’s cheek. 

‘Not surprising, considering that most of the times that we talk I’m really very drunk,’ Charles said with a self-deprecating smile that was quickly wiped away when Erik leaned closer.

‘As long as you’re sober now,’ Erik said, his mouth scant centimetres from Charles’s.

‘Sober as a judge,’ Charles said fervently, unconsciously straining forwards on the balls of his feet.

Erik gave him another slow, heated smile. ‘Good,’ was all he said, before taking Charles’s face in his hands and kissing him fiercely.

Twenty five minutes, a taxi ride, a hurried pizza delivery, and a considerable amount of kissing and groping later, Charles was being pushed down on his bed by a naked Erik, skin already slicked with sweat and bruised with rough kisses.

It was, Charles thought to himself with a sigh of pleasure as Erik nibbled at his collarbone, the perfect end to what had been a very long day. The eagerness with which Erik applied his body to the task at hand seemed to imply that he felt the same.

It was quite a shame then, that less than twenty four hours later, they would both realise that the night had meant very different things to the other, and that they would both end up greatly regretting its existence.

At the time, however, they were both blissfully ignorant and regret-free, each grunt of pleasure and curl of a toe only seeming to reinforce the notion that having sex with each other was one of the best ideas that they had ever had. 

This idea was firmly embedded in their thoughts long after they finally settled into sleep in the early hours of the morning, exhausted, sweaty, sticky and thoroughly fucked-out, at last sated of the other’s touch. Dawn saw them both curled tightly together on the bed, Erik’s arm wrapped around Charles’s chest, their legs tangled together, and their expressions strangely content.

At least for that one night, it seemed, things were perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik woke with a blink. 

The sun was shining brightly outside the curtains, indicating that it was rather late in the day. Unsurprised, Erik glanced around at the room that he was in, and it was a moment before he realised that it was not his own. He was familiar enough with the situation, however, that he was not overly disoriented at finding himself somewhere other than his own bed.

What _was_ unfamiliar, however, was how warm and … _comfortable_ he felt. He glanced down at himself and blinked in surprise when he realised that he was wrapped around another body ( _Charles_ , he remembered with a start, he had bedded _Charles_ last night) like an especially grabby octopus. He puzzled over it for a brief second before his eyes fell on the luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets (no doubt with some ridiculously high thread count) that he was swaddled in. His brow immediately cleared and Erik allowed himself to relax into the feeling of comfort, mentally resolving to invest in some Egyptian cotton sheets of his own as soon as he could afford it. He had slept like a baby.

Although, he reminded himself with a smirk, the _fantastic_ sex he’d had last night probably had something to do with that as well. Maybe it was simply the fact that he hadn’t had sex for a while, but last night had been – well, _mind-blowing_. Erik couldn’t remember even his nights with Magda feeling quite like that. Clearly this was what happened when two sex-gods came together. Feeling almost blissful, Erik silently thanked a nameless and benevolent deity for both his and Charles’s history of sexual partners: once again his faith in the power of the one night stand was reaffirmed.

Sighing in satisfaction, Erik glanced lazily at his watch, only for his air of languid contentment to quickly disappear. He had overslept: he had to be back at work in a little under two hours from now. That gave him _just_ enough time for him to get out of here, go home, shower, and head to the bar. Possibly grab something to eat, as well, if he was lucky. 

Grimacing, Erik slowly extricated himself from the bed, sliding his legs away and tipping Charles gently off his arm. He carefully pulled himself away from the bed, bending to pick up his clothes from the floor and then heading hurriedly towards the door, only briefly glancing back to make sure that Charles was still asleep. He paused for a moment, his eyes raking over the exposed skin and lingering on the kiss-shaped bruises that he’d sucked into Charles’s skin last night. He allowed himself a smirk. Last night had been a _very_ good night indeed. Then, pulling his clothes on quickly, he left.

Less than two hours later he was back at _Genosha_ , freshly showered and clothed, and ready to face the world once more. 

*****

‘You owe me money,’ was the very first thing that Erik said to Alex when he walked into the bar a little later, ready to begin his shift.

Alex’s pleasantly-vacant expression immediately slid away from his face and he threw Erik a withering look. ‘Christ, wait for me to get my coat off, at least!’ he snapped, scowling as he shrugged his jacket off. ‘And seriously, it wouldn’t _kill_ you to actually greet me with a “hello” for once, you know.’

‘Actually I _don’t_ know,’ Erik said, leaning against the counter with a smirk. ‘And I’d really rather not risk it.’ His teeth gleamed as he widened his grin. ‘Wouldn’t want to take any unnecessary chances, you know. Not before I get my money, at any rate.’

Alex threw him a disgusted look. ‘I don’t know why I thought getting you laid was going to help,’ he grumbled. ‘Before, you were a miserable asswipe. Now you’re a _cheerful_ asswipe. I’m not even sure which is worse.’

‘You say the sweetest things, darling,’ Erik drawled. ‘Now hand over the money.’

‘I think you’re forgetting,’ Alex protested, ‘We made a deal about Thursday’s karaoke shift. You said _no_ when I offered you fifty bucks. That deal’s _gone_ , man. You said no to the money.’

‘And I think _you’re_ forgetting,’ Erik said silkily, leaning forward with all the grace of a tiger in the midst of a hunt, ‘That I told you to _double_ your offer – and I wasn’t just talking about the karaoke.’ He allowed himself a grin, slowly revealing each and every one of his terrifying teeth. ‘So yes, it’s not _fifty_ bucks that I want. It’s a _hundred_.’

‘Fuck that!’ Alex gazed at him, appalled. ‘That wasn’t the deal! This isn’t _fair_! … Come on, man, do you _want_ me to be broke?’

Erik regarded him pitilessly. ‘A deal’s a deal. You offered and you accepted. How is it not fair?’

‘Oh my god, you’re such a dick,’ Alex moaned, reaching reluctantly into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. ‘Such a goddamn _asshole_.’

Erik grinned. ‘Don’t look so put out,’ he said, not a trace of sympathy in his voice. ‘I’m teaching you a valuable lesson here.’

‘Yeah?’ Alex lifted his head and regarded Erik with a flat look. ‘And what’s that? That it’s bad to gamble?’

‘Oh, you can gamble,’ Erik said easily, before smirking. ‘Just don’t ever gamble against _me_.’

Alex scowled. ‘Okay, forget what I said about you getting laid being a good idea,’ he grumbled, glowering at Erik. ‘I think I actually preferred you when you were _miserable_. Here then,’ he said spitefully, stuffing the money into Erik’s chest. ‘And just so you know, you really missed a trick becoming a bartender – you missed your calling as a taxman. Or a debt collector for a crime lord. Or the grim reaper. Something evil and asshole-y like that.’

‘Thanks for the career advice,’ Erik said idly, flicking through the notes to see that it was all there. ‘I’ll make sure to take it under advisement.’ 

‘You’re welcome,’ Alex sneered, glaring at him.

‘Any time,’ Erik said lightly. Then he paused. ‘But then perhaps I _am_ being a bit harsh on you,’ he mused. ‘Maybe I _do_ owe you a thank you … You _were_ right, after all. Last night was just what I needed.’

Alex perked up at that. ‘Oh yeah?’ he asked, leering.

‘Hmm,’ Erik managed to refrain from smiling. Instead he split the notes in half and offered it back to Alex. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Fifty. You can have it back, if you like.’

To his surprise, Alex recoiled slightly. ‘Nah, man,’ he said after a moment, a pained expression on his face. ‘That’s just weird, you know? Makes me feel like some kind of pimp. No,’ he said, a bit more resolutely, even whilst eyeing the money in Erik’s hand with an almost mournful air. ‘You keep it.’

Erik shrugged. ‘Your loss,’ he said easily, before putting the money in his pocket.

Alex sighed. Then he crooked his head and looked at Erik. ‘So, last night …’ he prompted.

Erik arched an eyebrow. ‘What about it?’

‘Was it good?’ Alex asked with an exaggerated leer.

Erik threw him an amused glance. ‘ _Very_ good,’ he confirmed. ‘In fact, I would even go so far as to say that I wouldn’t mind doing it again with him. Not immediately, of course,’ he said quickly. ‘I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea.’ Not the way that _he’d_ done with Magda.

‘Sure,’ Alex rolled his eyes. ‘We wouldn’t want _that_.’ Then, to Erik’s surprise, Alex flashed him a genuine smile and clapped him on the arm. ‘Seriously though, it’s good to see you without a scowl on your face for once.’ His expression became a bit more earnest. ‘Maybe now you can – you know, move on and stuff.’

Erik, knowing that the boy meant well, gamely resisted the urge to snap at him and instead gifted him with a (slightly forced) smile. ‘I appreciate the sentiment,’ he said stiffly, before continuing on in a drier tone. ‘But let me assure you for your own peace of mind that Magda is no longer a concern of mine.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I – thank you for your concern, though.’

Alex blinked at him in surprise. ‘Huh,’ he said, looking slightly awed. ‘I was sure you would bite my head off for that. What do you know, maybe getting you laid really _was_ a stroke of genius!’

Erik shrugged. ‘Every dog has its day, I suppose,’ he said, before turning and heading into the backroom.

Alex blinked.

‘Who said anything about dogs?’ he asked in a confused voice.

*****

Later that evening, Erik and Alex were tending the bar, pulling pints and mixing drinks for the customers thronging around them. Erik was on sparkling form, flirting wickedly with everyone who approached him, sending killer smiles and smouldering looks left and right, making women blush and men weak at the knees. Sex certainly seemed to have agreed with him.

‘Oi, stop stealing my customers!’ Alex groused good-naturedly as more people swarmed to Erik’s side of the bar.

‘Work harder for them then,’ Erik returned, serving the woman in front of him quickly and efficiently, even though she appeared to be much more interested in him than in the cocktail that he was mixing for her. Usually Erik would have been irritated by all the attention that he was garnering and would feel stifled by it, but tonight he seemed to thrive on it instead; if the tips he had been receiving so far were any indication, then he might be able to invest in those Egyptian cotton sheets sooner than he’d thought.

He was kept busy for the majority of the evening, leaving him with barely a moment to himself. The line in front of him gradually thinned out, but his customers seemed to return to the bar for refills twice as quickly as they normally did, lured by the seductive smile of their suddenly-friendly barman. Every so often a customer would offer him a drink on their tab which he would readily accept, the result of which was that he was even looser and more relaxed as time went by and freer with his smiles. And the more Erik smiled and flirted, the better he was tipped.

‘We should really get you laid more often,’ Alex said when the crowd in front of them finally dispersed, a pleased smile on his face and his eyes on the now-full tips jar.

Erik followed his line of sight, a feeling of smug satisfaction enveloping him.

‘I have no objections to that,’ he said contentedly, a smile curling at the end of his mouth. It wasn’t as if he had any reason to protest: not only had he got to have a night of fantastic sex, but he’d also managed to have an extremely successful day at work, picking up generous tips and a slew of phone numbers in the process … not to mention the fact that for once he hadn’t had to suppress any latent homicidal tendencies when confronted with annoying customers, which was in itself unprecedented. 

Erik gave a soft snort and shook his head in amusement at the thought. He’d _really_ have to remember to thank Charles the next time he saw him.

The next time he saw him, of course, meaning the next week. Because the whole world and its wife knew that Charles _only_ came in on Fridays, and today, wouldn’t you know, was Saturday. Ergo, Charles would not be here for another six long Charles-free days. Like always.

Which meant that it was quite understandably a huge shock for Erik to see no one else but Charles walk in through the door of the bar, hands in pockets and smile on his face, looking for all the world like time had reversed itself and made the day _Friday_ instead of _Saturday_.

Erik stared.

And stared some more. 

Charles was here. And it was a Saturday. 

In other words, _Charles_ was here, and it was _not_ a Friday. 

There had to be a reasonable explanation for this. Charles couldn’t be here. He just couldn’t. It was a _Saturday_ , for god’s sake! 

Erik firmly ignored the part of his brain that was currently mocking the fact that he seemed to think that Charles existed in some sort of temporal-stasis bubble which only allowed him to exist on Friday evenings. Stranger things had happened, he was sure of it.

Maybe he was hallucinating. Erik rather _hoped_ he was hallucinating. Because if Charles was here on a Saturday – on _this_ particular Saturday – then that could only mean that it was because of what had happened last night and _that_ meant that he had thought that – that he wanted – 

‘Alex,’ Erik said in a slow and almost pleasant voice, immediately alerting Alex to the fact that something was off. ‘Alex, look at the door, would you?’

Alex glanced up distractedly, only to do a double-take and focus on the doorway, a small frown appearing on his face. ‘Hold on,’ he said, a wrinkle appearing on his forehead. ‘Isn’t that …?’

‘It certainly appears so, doesn’t it?’ Erik said through gritted teeth.

‘But it’s Saturday,’ Alex said, still frowning. ‘What’s he doing here on a Saturday? He _never_ comes in on a Saturday.’

‘I was rather asking myself the same question,’ Erik said darkly, forcing himself to stay calm now that he had confirmation that Charles was, in fact, not an illusion. A thousand terrible scenarios ran through his head. Did Charles think … Why would he be here? Surely he knew that last night had been a no-strings-attached deal? A one-off among friends? He wasn’t – Erik swallowed at the thought – he wasn’t hoping for some sort of _relationship_ to come from this, was he? Sure, the sex last night had been wonderful, but that didn’t mean that Erik wanted to _marry_ the guy.

He shuddered at the thought, even as his mind continued to race. Maybe Charles was a stalker. Oh god he hoped that Charles wasn’t a stalker. He _hated_ dealing with those creeps – Erik had already had more than his fair share of _that_ sort of weirdo, thank you very much, and he wasn’t at all eager to deal with any more. 

Gritting his teeth, he watched Charles out of the corner of his eye, hoping against hope that by some miracle Charles wouldn’t see him. Naturally he wasn’t that lucky. His fists clenched as he saw Charles walk towards the bar, a smile bright on his face as he spotted Erik.

‘Maybe you left something behind, last night,’ Alex suggested apprehensively, biting his lip as he watched Charles approach. He really hoped that that _was_ the reason why Charles was here, and not because of some foolish crush or attachment he may have formed for Erik (as incredible and impossible as it may seem that _anyone_ could feel in any way attached to _Erik_ ). Alex knew very well that Erik wasn’t at all pleased to see Charles, and he was even more intimately acquainted with what Erik was like when he was in a mood. He wouldn’t wish _that_ experience on anyone – especially when it was sort-of-kind-of-maybe _his_ fault that Charles was in this position in the first place.

Erik, however, had brightened at Alex’s suggestion. Yes, he thought, of course. That must be it. What else could it be? He must have left his watch (no, there it was on his wrist) or his phone (no, he had put it away just before his shift started) or an item of clothing (nope, he had taken everything) or a pair of cufflinks (he didn’t even _own_ a pair of bloody cufflinks, let alone wear them into work) or _something_. Because the alternative was that Charles thought that he was welcome here and that he and Erik had some sort of special _thing_ going on, and Erik _really_ didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with delusional, blue-eyed, semi-alcoholic potential stalkers in search of meaningful relationships right now, even if they _did_ give fantastic blow-jobs.

‘Christ,’ he muttered under his breath just as Charles arrived in front of him.

‘Erik!’ Charles exclaimed cheerfully, beaming at him and looking for all the world as if he wasn’t violating every single rule in the one-night-stand rule book. ‘You should have woken me up before you left, I would have made you breakfast!’ He leaned in over the bar to press a kiss to Erik’s cheek, but Erik immediately jerked back, reacting as if Charles had the plague. Charles blinked at him in confusion before glancing around and then peacefully retreating, seemingly attributing Erik’s standoffishness to the fact that he was at work and in a public place.

‘Hmm,’ was all Erik was able to say in response to Charles’s enthusiastic greeting, his teeth gritted together as he focused on serving drinks. He was deliberately avoiding eye contact, hoping that Charles would just go away.

Unfortunately, Charles didn’t seem to get the message. ‘You know, I only just realised – I don’t have your number,’ he said in an apologetic tone. ‘We should really-’

‘Can I get you something?’ Erik interrupted sharply, cutting him off. There was no way in hell that he was giving Charles his number.

Charles started at the hostile tone, looking surprised. Then he glanced behind at all the other customers waiting for drinks and he grimaced.

‘Sorry,’ he said, aiming his apology at both Erik and the line behind him. ‘I didn’t realise. I’ll-’

‘Why don’t you go over there and have Alex serve you?’ Erik said hurriedly, already looking past Charles to the next customer. ‘What can I get you?’ he asked the woman, throwing her a seductive smile and making her giggle.

Charles stood still, looking at Erik, a strange expression gracing his features. Then he blinked and shook his head, before giving Erik a strained smile.

‘Sure,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘I’ll just go sit in my usual seat, shall I?’ 

Erik wasn’t even paying any attention.

The moment Charles turned away, however, Erik threw a glare at Alex. ‘Help me!’ he hissed.

Alex glanced back to where Charles was now sitting himself down in his usual seat and winced before turning a glare on Erik.

‘What the hell am _I_ supposed to do?’ he hissed back.

‘I don’t know!’ Erik growled, his jaw tight. ‘All I know is that this is _your_ fault, so _you_ had better deal with it!’

Alex gaped. His jaw worked fruitlessly as he struggled to close it.

‘ _My fault?_ ’ he sputtered, before firmly shaking his head. ‘No, you know what, I don’t even want to _know_ how you came up with that one.’ He threw Erik a wild look. ‘What the hell do you even expect me to _do_?’

‘I don’t care!’ Erik glared at him. ‘Just get rid of him!’

Alex frowned, before glancing back at Charles. His expression drooped at the sight and he squirmed, turning to scowl down at his feet.

‘Look,’ he said at last, sounding uncomfortable. ‘I know it’s not really any of my business-’

‘Damn right,’ Erik said immediately, knowing that he wasn’t going to like what Alex said next.

‘- but dude – _seriously_. Is it really so hard to just speak to the guy yourself? I mean, he looks like a pretty decent guy – and you yourself said that you had a good time last night. Couldn’t you just – you know – be gentle about it?’ Alex looked up at him hopefully. ‘Just this one time? Just – let him down easy?’

Erik’s fists had clenched before he could stop them. He knew, deep in his heart, that Alex was right but even so he couldn’t help the sudden build-up of irrational anger and resentment that had churned within him at the trigger of Alex’s last words. No one had ever gone easy on _him_ , he thought resentfully. No one (and Magda was just at the top of his list here) had ever done _him_ the courtesy of letting him down easy: not his father, when he’d announced that he was divorcing his mother; not his mother when she’d told him that they had to move to a rat-infested run-down apartment on the far edge of town; not the doctor who had bluntly told a thirteen-year old child that his mother had no hope of recovery from her illness and that he had better get used to that … No, Magda’s rejection of him had just been one in a long line of hard let-downs in Erik’s life. So why should _he_ sugar-coat things for a soft, spoiled little rich boy who had probably never suffered or wanted for anything in his entire pampered little life?

Something cruel in Erik crowed at the thought of hurting Charles, at showing him that he couldn’t always get what he wanted. Showing him what it was like to be Erik.

Full of bitter resolve, he shook off any stray thoughts ( _Magda must have hurt you more than you thought_ ) and feelings of discomfort ( _But it’s **Charles**!_ ) and instead turned the full force of his glare on Alex.

‘No,’ he snarled, causing Alex to blink in surprise. ‘ _You_ can play nice with him and ease your needlessly guilty conscience if you like, but I’ve got _nothing_ to feel guilty about. He wanted it and I wanted it, and that is all there is to it. Now, I _really_ don’t have the time to deal with clingy one-time fucks right now so shut up, go to him, get him drunk if you have to, and then _get rid of him_!’

Alex’s eyes were wide and he stared at Erik as if he was seeing him for the first time.

‘Wow,’ he said at last, not even attempting to hide the disgust held in that one small word. ‘You’re a right bastard, you know that? I don’t even know why – if _this_ is the way that you treat someone that you … I thought you _liked_ this guy – you hung out with him _every Friday_!’

Erik couldn’t stop the sharp tug of guilt in his stomach and he _knew_ that Alex was right and that he _was_ being a bastard, but this knowledge just made him angrier. 

‘Look, we both knew what we were getting into,’ he said tightly, gritting his teeth. ‘And maybe he’s fun to talk to when he is drunk. It’s not _my_ fault that he read too much into what happened last night and now wants to follow me around like a drunken puppy, is it? Now I’m warning you here, Alex – go over there and _get rid of him before I lose my temper_.’

Alex glared up at Erik, his jaw tight. ‘Fine,’ he snapped. ‘I will. But only because you’re an _ass_ and because I _am_ feeling guilty that I let you anywhere near that poor guy.’

‘Whatever,’ Erik huffed, though his insides felt decidedly squirmy. He knew that he was being – well, an _ass_ , as Alex had so eloquently put it – but for some reason he couldn’t stop it. 

He quickly poured himself a glass of strong whiskey and threw it back in one gulp, before glaring down at the table. It wasn’t _just_ that he was an angry bitter man at heart, and he knew it. Having someone here who wanted _more_ from him – having _Charles_ here … it confused him. He didn’t know why, but he knew that if he went over there and talked to Charles, then … well he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it would be a complete and utter _disaster_.

Careful not to make eye contact or to even look as if he were watching him, Erik angled himself so that he could observe (i.e. spy on) Charles without having to crick his neck, even whilst remaining as far away from him as possible. Charles glanced at him only once or twice – a lot less than Erik had expected – and though his expression was tense, he looked more confused than upset. He didn’t seem as if he was about to burst into tears at any rate. Erik wasn’t sure whether he was more relieved or disappointed by this.

It was a few minutes before Alex was able to extricate himself from the crowd around the bar and approach Charles. Erik watched as Charles perked up when Alex approached, his expression changing to one of concentration when Alex began to speak. Erik wasn’t sure what exactly Alex was saying but he saw Charles give a small snort followed by an almost bitter self-deprecating smile. At his nod, Alex went and pulled him a pint, throwing a filthy look in Erik’s direction as he did so, though Erik pretended not to take any notice. 

Erik was, however, quite surprised when Alex didn’t immediately leave after returning to Charles and depositing the pint. Instead he stayed and chatted to him, leaving Erik to deal with the thirsty masses surrounding the bar. Erik did so with a sigh of muted irritation, keeping one eye on the customers and the other on Charles and Alex. They seemed to be having a rather pleasant conversation by the looks of things, and though his eyes were grim, Charles didn’t appear to be overly upset. Well. That was fine then.

A few minutes later, Charles finished his pint and rose to his feet. Alex appeared to be urging him to stay and have another drink – what the hell was that idiot even thinking? – but Charles shook his head firmly, jerking his head wryly in Erik’s direction (Erik immediately interested himself in polishing the glass in front of him _very_ thoroughly). With a smile and a few parting words to Alex, Charles left, not sparing a glance behind him. 

And that, Erik thought with a sigh, was that.

**…**

When Alex came back he was _not_ happy.

‘I always knew you were a jackass,’ he said before Erik could even open his mouth to ask what had happened. ‘But this was low even for you. And that’s saying something.’

Erik gave a bored shrug, trying to look as if Alex’s words didn’t bother him.

‘Yes, yes, I am the spawn of the devil, I know,’ he said with an exaggerated eye-roll, even though his heart wasn’t really in it. ‘You’re going to have to learn to get over it one of these days. Now, what did he say?’

Alex snorted. ‘I thought you weren’t _interested_ in anything he had to say,’ he said snidely, purposefully turning his back on Erik as he went to serve a waiting customer a drink.

‘I wasn’t interested in anything he had to say to _me_ ,’ Erik said impatiently, following him over. ‘I _am_ , however, greatly interested in what he might have said to _you_.’

Alex simply let out another snort, busied himself with the drink order, and then proceeded to ignore Erik for the rest of the night. Erik, having his own customers to deal with, for once respected his silence instead of bullying him into speaking. His patience had absolutely nothing to do with the realisation that Alex was genuinely pissed off at him this time, _or_ to do with the odd queasiness in his stomach. He was just busy.

Finally, the time came to ring the bell for last orders, and the customers began to slowly trickle out of the bar, even as Alex and Erik started to clear up.

‘Look,’ Erik said with a grimace when the bar was finally empty, accosting Alex as he was carefully cleaning a glass. ‘I just want to know what it was that Charles _said_. You know – if he wanted you to tell me to fuck off or anything. I’m sure he must have said _something_ of the sort.’

Alex didn’t answer for a moment, instead scrutinising the glass for any minute flecks of dirt that he may have missed. Having done that, he set the glass away and finally turned to face Erik, his cool, unblinking eyes finally lifting from his hands.

‘You really wanna know what he said?’ he asked. When Erik nodded, Alex folded his arms and sighed. ‘Fine then. He said nothing.’

Erik blinked. ‘Nothing,’ he repeated, turning the word around in his mouth for a long moment. Then, finding the taste to be somewhat acrid, he sneered. ‘ _Nothing_. Well, _forgive_ me if I don’t believe you, seeing as the two of you were talking over there in the corner for about _half a fucking hour_ , thick as two fucking thieves!’

‘Christ!’ Alex practically exploded, throwing his hands up in the air in an almost Gallic display of exasperation. ‘It was barely fifteen minutes, you fucking _maniac_! What – were you actually sitting there _spying_ on us? What the _fuck_ , man – I thought you didn’t even _care_!’

‘I don’t!’ Erik snapped. ‘But I think I deserve to know if someone’s out there badmouthing me, don’t I?’

Alex huffed out a laugh of disbelief. ‘Man, you really are a shit spy,’ he said, and there was almost a trace of fondness in his tone, like Erik’s complete and utter failure in understanding people was _endearing_. ‘You really are an emotional fuckwit, aren’t you?’ He gave a tired laugh as Erik stared at him in incomprehension. ‘Look, I spent less than fifteen minutes with that guy but even _I_ know that he’s not the kind of person that would badmouth _anybody_. You’ve been spending – what? – almost every Friday since you started here talking to him, and you _still_ didn’t manage to see that? What the hell kind of a friend are you, anyway?’ 

Erik felt that odd sensation twist and churn in his stomach once more. With effort he clamped down on it.

Alex was still talking. 

‘You know, he seems like a really nice guy?’ he was saying, his tone light. ‘Smart, too. Told me that he’s some kind of professor up at the university. Guy barely looks older than me, and he’s already a goddamn professor!’ Alex shook his head in awe, before letting out a sigh. He turned and looked up at Erik, his expression serious. ‘Look – you _really_ want to know what he said?’

Erik gave him a small, cautious nod, even though he suddenly just wanted to close his ears and pretend that the entire evening had never happened.

‘He apologised,’ Alex said abruptly, his face angled away so that Erik couldn’t see his expression. ‘I told him that you’d just been looking for a little fun, that that’s what you do; that you weren’t looking for anything serious at the moment and that you didn’t really want to see him right now – and he _apologised_. Said that it was _his_ fault. I told him about you, I _told_ him that you were a goddamn stupid _dumb-ass_ , but he just gave me this phoney little smile and told me that it was okay, that it was his fault for reading too much into things and for ambushing you when he should have known that he wasn’t wanted. Looked like a goddamn kicked puppy the whole time we were speaking, too.’

Alex trailed off into silence for a moment. Erik couldn’t bring himself to break it and just stood there awkwardly, his hands clenching at nothing.

‘You know I told him that I’d put anything he wanted to drink tonight on your tab?’ Alex said suddenly, still not looking at Erik. ‘That I told him that he should stay here and get plastered ‘cause you were buying? You know what he did?’ Alex paused but Erik didn’t say anything. ‘Oh look, you guessed it. Nothing. He just had that one beer – which he paid for himself, by the way – and said that he didn’t want to do that to you _or_ get me in trouble. Oh – and what was it? Oh yeah –’ here Alex put on a highly exaggerated, very poor imitation of an English accent, ‘- that he “would just go home now, thank you very much, as dear old Erik so very _obviously_ doesn’t want me here and please, do tell him that I’m so _terribly_ sorry to have misunderstood him and that he is not to worry, I won’t be bothering him again -”’

Erik’s head shot up. ‘What?’ he asked, blinking stupidly.

‘The accent’s not _that_ bad-’

‘Not the accent, you idiot,’ Erik growled. ‘What’s that about him not – about him not bothering me again?’

Alex shrugged. ‘Basically he just said that he was sorry to have embarrassed you and that you needn’t worry about him bothering you about it in the future.’

Erik felt his heartbeat slowing down from where it had strangely sped up a few moments before. ‘Oh,’ he said, relaxing. ‘That’s okay then. I guess I – I _may_ have overreacted-’

Alex let out a very loud, very obnoxious snort.

‘Oh shut up,’ Erik said without heat. ‘Next time you see him, tell him that he’s not to worry about it, and that we’ll just forget that it ever happened. Water under the bridge.’

‘Tell him yourself,’ Alex said rudely, his tone huffy.

‘Fine, I will,’ Erik retorted, his trademark smirk finally making its way back onto his face, albeit in a much smaller, more brittle form. ‘He’s sensible enough when he’s not falling over himself drunk, he’ll get over it. Everything will just go back to how it used to be, you’ll see.’

He turned to see Alex regarding him carefully, his expression half incredulous and half pitying.

‘I guess we will,’ Alex said at last. Then he paused. ‘But even if – Look man, we’ve been working together for a while now, and even though I constantly question my sanity about it, I _do_ actually think of you as a friend. When you’re not being a complete _jackass_ , that is.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘Your point?’ he asked, slightly tetchily.

‘My point?’ Alex turned to stare Erik straight in the eye. ‘My point is that if you want Charles – and _me_ , for that matter – to continue _being_ your friends, then you need to sort yourself out. No, really,’ he said firmly, even as Erik opened his mouth to protest. ‘You need to realise this: you are in need of a _serious_ attitude adjustment, man. Seriously.’ He picked up a fallen rag and walked away to the end of the bar where he paused, his back to Erik. ‘You can’t keep pushing everyone away, Erik. I spent an entire fucking year in juvie locked up in solitary fucking confinement, and even _I_ know that.’

With that he wiped his hands, threw the rag down on bar, and walked into the backroom, without even once looking back. 

Erik stood there for a moment, watching the door through where Alex had disappeared, only moving when he heard the backdoor shut.

‘ _I’m_ not the one that needs an attitude adjustment,’ he muttered angrily to himself as he picked up his own rag and began furiously wiping down the tables. ‘ _I’m_ not the one who needs to change. If someone doesn’t like the way I am, then they can go fuck themselves. _I_ don’t need _anyone_.’

He ignored the way that his words seemed small and unconvincing without anyone else there to hear them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies! <3

_6 Days Later_

 

The week rolled by, the days passing until it was, once again, Friday.

Erik had – unbeknownst to even himself – been counting down the days till it came, his feelings a muddled mixture of both anticipation and trepidation. He had given some thought to his actions of the previous Saturday and had eventually come to the reluctant conclusion that, while he had been perfectly within his rights to want to avoid Charles, it was quite possible that he had perhaps acted rather badly when it had come to the confrontation between them, and so it just _might_ be plausible that an apology was in order on his part.

Although, Erik thought grouchily as he scrubbed at the surface of the bar, he would not be at all averse to receiving an apology from Charles in return. After all, Erik had been completely unprepared for Charles ambushing him at his place of work on a day that he had never before visited on – _especially_ when considering that the day in question was the one immediately after their (completely casual and unromantic) night together. He’d never been faced with a situation like that before. He’d had no way of predicting such an occurrence and, as a result, he had been caught completely by surprise.

… So really – if one thought about it _rationally_ – could anyone actually _blame_ Erik for being a tad … _startled_ at seeing Charles on that night? Yes, he might have acted a bit hastily, Erik could admit that much, but that didn’t mean that his actions weren’t entirely _justified_ … Surely Charles – cheerful, sensible, good old Charles – couldn’t hold Erik’s reaction against him?

No, Erik decided with a firm shake of the head, Charles was far too reasonable for that. All Erik needed to do was explain things to him, and Charles would nod that thoughtful nod of his, look at Erik solemnly and say ‘my friend, you are right. Let us fight no longer!’ and then smile that slightly mischievous smile of his with his too-red lips, and his blue blue eyes would twinkle merrily as he ordered a beer, and then he’d have a drink, and Erik would have a drink, and everything would go back to normal. 

And then – who knows? Maybe, in time, Charles would be open to having sex with him again, because sex like they’d had that night was too good not to occur at _least_ twice in a lifetime.

And so Erik set about that Friday in a relatively good mood, eager to talk things over with Charles and clear the air, so that they could get things back to normal and consider the whole mess over and done with.

By half past seven, the time at which Charles would usually make his appearance at the bar, Erik had stationed himself so that he had a clear view of _Genosha_ ’s doorway, eager to catch Charles’s eye the moment that he walked in. He paid little attention to the customers thronging around him, instead glancing up at the door every few seconds in the hope of seeing a pair of lovely blue eyes paired with a thick, fuzzy cardigan, but although people entered and exited constantly, not one of them wore a cardigan (which wasn’t all that surprising) and none boasted eyes with _quite_ the same shade and vibrancy as Charles’s. 

Charles, it seemed, simply wasn’t there.

Frowning, Erik shook his head and went back to focusing on his customers. Maybe Charles was running late.

At eight o’clock he glanced up again but there was still no one in the bar who even remotely resembled Charles.

He looked up at eight-thirty. Still no sign of him. 

Eight-forty. 

Eight-forty five.

Nine o’clock.

Still no Charles.

Erik was getting very impatient now. It was damned inconvenient and – yes, he would say it – _inconsiderate_ of Charles to change his schedule like this. First appearing on a Saturday, and then not appearing at all on his usual Friday …

… Perhaps he had now decided to change his usual visiting days to Saturdays. Maybe he had some odd sort of logic that demanded a week’s grace between trips to the bar (he probably needed that long for all the alcohol of the previous week to wear off, Erik figured). It made sense, and Charles – Charles was odd like that. Yes, Erik reasoned, that must be it.

Somehow, this conclusion didn’t stop him from glancing up at the doorway each time a person entered the bar for the rest of the night.

None of them were Charles.

**…**

_The Next Day (Saturday)_

 

Charles did not show up.

 

He was probably just uncomfortable after last week’s encounter and needed some time to cool off. He embarrassed easily, did Charles. He would be there next week. Erik was sure of it. He said so to Alex. Loudly and repeatedly.

Alex just raised an eyebrow and spent the rest of the day ignoring him.

**…**

_Friday, A Week Later (Two Weeks Since Erik Slept with Charles)_

 

Today. Today would be the day that Charles finally walked through the doors to _Genosha_ , and Erik would raise an eyebrow, coolly drawl out something like ‘hello stranger’ or ‘long time, no see’ (or maybe even both), and whip out a pint of beer and nod Charles over to his usual seat, where Charles would blush at the awkwardness, which would make them both laugh, and then they would talk and Erik would explain, and everything would go back to normal again.

 

Charles did not turn up.

**…**

_Two Weeks Later (Three Weeks Since Erik Slept with Charles)_

 

Erik could now admit that the reason that Charles wasn’t showing up _probably_ wasn’t due to illness, or to classes extending later than expected, or to a sudden unforeseen trip to the other end of the world which had prevented him from contacting absolutely anyone else to let them know about it.

He was now even beginning to regret not having given Charles his number. It wasn’t as if it could have done much harm: his phone was always off during his work hours, and Erik could always have blocked his calls if Charles had become too persistent or annoying. 

He could even admit that this mess probably wouldn’t have happened if they had just swapped numbers in the first place – or even if it had, Erik could have simply sorted it out with a quick phone call. That way he wouldn’t have even had to meet Charles face to face. The best and most successful confrontations, Erik felt, always happened when both parties were nowhere near each other.

Of course, it was still quite possible that Charles was simply embarrassed. If that was the case, then Erik would just have to wait until he worked up the nerve to come back to the bar. Erik would _definitely_ apologise then.

Letting out a sigh, he listened mournfully as the man in front of him started to drunkenly tell him about the different varieties of cabbages that he was growing in his vegetable patch. 

Charles’s babble about genetics had always been so much more interesting.

**…**

_Three Weeks Later (Four Weeks Since Erik Slept with Charles)_

 

A man tried to sit in Charles’s seat. Erik snarled at him. The man left in rather a hurry.

*****

It had been just over a month since Erik had last seen Charles and by now even he could admit that his job didn’t seem half as enjoyable now that he no longer had anyone to laugh with at the end of the week and brighten up his working hours … No one who made terrible genetics-based jokes that somehow made Erik laugh despite their awfulness. No one who would ask and then actually seem to care about how his day had been.

He let out a sigh. He hadn’t a clue what was wrong with him. It had been an entire _month_. Why on earth was he still thinking about Charles?

‘You’re mooning after him,’ Alex said wisely, when Erik eventually voiced this thought. ‘All those bleak expressions and moody scowls and wistful sighs…’ he paused. ‘Actually, now that I think about it, it’s just the wistful sighing that’s new. Seriously though, man – I think it’s time to face it,’ he looked Erik straight in the eye. ‘You miss him.’

Erik’s first reaction was to scoff, and indeed, he did – loudly and obnoxiously. Alex’s deeply unimpressed look, however, quickly made him stop and think over that statement.

‘But why would I miss him?’ he asked, and his tone was one of genuine puzzlement and confusion. ‘We slept together _once_. We didn’t even know each other that well.’

Alex, after first taking a moment to confirm that the question was not a rhetorical one, slowly put down the glass he was holding and moved carefully towards Erik. ‘Well,’ he said tentatively. ‘Maybe – and I’m just guessing here – maybe you liked him more than you thought?’

Erik grunted. He didn’t look too happy with the idea.

‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know,’ Alex continued determinedly, even as he made sure not to elicit eye-contact (he was brave, not stupid). ‘Like him, I mean. I totally get it. I know you’ve got this big, mean, repressed thing going on-’

Erik let out a small growl but Alex hurried on, earnestly trying to get Erik to open up, foolhardy though the enterprise was.

‘- but man, like I said, I _get_ it – Charles is a cool guy. And I swear, _everybody_ likes him. He’s definitely got some weird sort of mojo going on – I mean, even that big, mean bartender over at _Hellfire_ can’t help smiling whenever he walks through thhhhhaaaaarrrghhhh-’ 

Alex let out something that was decidedly not a squeal as, without warning, Erik grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him up close so that they were pressed right against each other, Alex’s eyes caught helplessly in Erik’s own raptor-like gaze.

‘What do you mean _everybody_ likes him?’ Erik’s voice was low and silky and would have sounded almost pleasant if it wasn’t for the dangerous look in his eyes and the thread of restrained anger that laced his voice – not to mention the fact that his fists had bunched Alex’s shirt up at his throat in what was dangerously close to an act of strangulation.

Alex gulped and his eyes widened as he realised what he had said. ‘Wh-what?’ he sputtered, his hands limply holding onto Erik’s. 

Erik’s eyes narrowed and he promptly shook Alex, causing Alex’s head to jerk back and forth roughly. A few patrons of the bar glanced at them in concern but most of the others, being regulars, pointedly ignored what was going on; they were (reasonably) certain that Erik wouldn’t cause Alex any (lasting) harm.

‘Let me try that again,’ Erik said, still with that silky-smooth voice that Alex was quickly coming to fear even more than Erik’s growls. ‘ _What_ were you saying about _you_ and _Charles_ being together at _Hellfire_?’

‘Fuck,’ Alex managed to choke out. He squirmed in Erik’s grasp and Erik loosened his hold very slightly, just enough for Alex to be able to talk. ‘I didn’t mean to – it’s not what you think, I swear!’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘It isn’t?’ he asked with exaggerated innocence. ‘Well please, Alex, do tell me – what _is_ it exactly that I think?’

Alex was beginning to realise that this conversation wasn’t going in a direction that would have any sort of a pleasant end for him.

He swallowed. ‘Um … well,’ he wriggled ineffectively. ‘I mean – it wasn’t like it was a _date_ or anything-’

He promptly choked as Erik’s grip on him tightened, his fingers digging into Alex’s throat. They only loosened when Alex’s face began to turn an almost disturbing shade of purple.

‘Oh my _god_ ,’ Alex wheezed out as Erik finally let go. ‘You fucking _psycho_ , what the hell?’

‘Don’t try to change the subject,’ Erik growled. ‘Tell me what the hell you were doing with Charles at _Hellfire_!’

Alex glared at him but paled the moment that he saw Erik’s fingers twitch in his direction. He let out a sigh of resignation. ‘Look,’ he said uneasily, shifting from foot to foot. ‘Don’t be mad or anything-’

‘Mad? Why on earth would I be _mad_?’ Erik asked idly, his dreaded long-fingered hands now drawing circles on the bar top, pausing every now and then to flex menacingly. ‘What possible _reason_ could _I_ have to be _mad_?’

‘Er…’ Alex said dumbly, eyes stuck on Erik’s hands.

‘After all, it’s not as if you’ve been keeping _secrets_ from me,’ Erik continued in the same tone of fake boredom, his own eyes on his hands. ‘ _Or_ been sitting around watching me fret even whilst knowing the exact piece of information that I’ve been wanting to know for _weeks_ now … _or_ breaking the number one rule of working at _Genosha_ by patronising the halls of those _bastards_ over at _Hellfire_ …’

Alex winced at each and every one of the accusations.

‘… Not to mention deliberately setting out to seduce someone that I had _patently_ taken an interest in-’

‘Whoa!’ Alex almost fell over himself in panic. ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa – there was no _seducing_ going on _anywhere_! Erik – I _swear_ – there was nothing – there _is_ nothing-’

‘Why, isn’t Charles good enough for you?’ Erik demanded, for the sole purpose of making Alex squirm.

‘No!’ Alex’s eyes widened as he scrabbled mentally, not seeming to realise that he was in way over his head. ‘Charles is awesome, he’s totally cool, and – and – awesome, and good looki-’ he saw Erik narrow his eyes at him and he immediately swallowed his words. ‘Yeah, he’s awesome,’ he finished lamely.

‘Hmm,’ Erik smirked internally before remembering the point of the interrogation and narrowing his eyes. ‘Now tell me properly – why were you with Charles, and what the _fuck_ were you doing at _Hellfire_?’

Alex swallowed. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘But first you gotta understand – it’s not like I _deliberately_ lied to you or anything – I mean, Charles _asked_ me not to-’

‘Get on with it!’ Erik snarled, something in him sinking at the idea that Charles had not wanted Erik to be told about their meeting. He gritted his teeth. For Alex’s sake, there had better not be anything _to_ tell.

‘Right, right,’ Alex said quickly. He took a deep breath. ‘So I’ve got this friend, Hank, down at the university,’ he began, darting a look at Erik, who was listening impatiently. ‘You might recognise him, he comes down here sometimes, though usually it’s when you’re not around. You kinda freak him out, just so you know. Anyway, he’s a real science nerd and he’s always going on and on about this and that and how _interesting_ his classes are and how _awesome_ his professor is …’ Alex shrugged. ‘I just figured he was being his usual nerdy self, you know? But now – get this – _now_ it turns out that _his_ awesome prof is actually _our_ awesome prof – I mean, that is to say, he’s _Charles_!’ 

He paused, waiting for this to sink in. Erik did not look impressed. Alex carried on. ‘Anyway, a couple of weeks ago I went up there to pick Hank up and there he was – just chattering away to Charles about some science shit, looking like he was gonna start drooling all over him and – and anyway,’ he said hurriedly, catching Erik’s narrowed glare. ‘Anyway, Charles saw me before I could like – jump behind some bushes or something. He looked – well, he was pretty damn embarrassed, if I’m honest. Looked like he wanted to get the heck out of there. But then Bozo – I mean, _Hank_ – goes and invites him along to get a drink, and Charles looks like he’s about to make a run for it but then he just sighs and shrugs like, yeah, whatever man, and-’

‘Why didn’t you come here?’ Erik demanded before Alex could go any further.

‘Huh?’ was Alex’s intelligent reply.

‘Why didn’t you come here?’ Erik repeated with feigned patience. ‘I know you didn’t – I’ve been working almost every day for the past month!’ Which is to say, he’d worked almost every day since the first Friday that Charles hadn’t appeared; he’d even worked through the god-awful Karaoke Thursday that first week (and hadn’t he just wanted to wipe that smirk off of Alex’s face when he had asked to swap shifts?) Not that it actually _meant_ anything, of course. Well, not very _much_ , anyway. 

‘Hey, I _wanted_ to!’ Alex protested, holding hands up. ‘Employee discount and all, right? But Charles didn’t want to.’ Alex lowered his hands and watched almost apologetically as Erik’s expression flickered. ‘He didn’t say it out loud, of course – just said that – that _Hellfire_ was quicker and that he – erm – that he preferred that place over others.’

Erik’s fingers clenched over the bar top, the wind suddenly drained out of him. He felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. He knew why Charles had said that – he understood why and everything – but for Charles to say that he preferred to go somewhere other than _Genosha_ – and for that place to be the fucking _Hellfire_ club – well, that was just a massive insult over a seriously debilitating injury.

‘He – Charles said that?’ he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

Alex looked even more apologetic than before. ‘Sorry man,’ he said, wincing in sympathy. ‘I know you hate that place. Turns out that that’s Charles’s new haunt; he started going there when – er – well – _you_ know.’

‘Yeah,’ Erik’s voice rasped. ‘Yeah, I know.’

They stood in silence for a while, Erik trying to digest what he had just learnt. _Hellfire_. Bloody _Hellfire_. Why on earth would Charles go _there_? It was tacky and overpriced and full of noisy young things and Erik _hated_ it and Charles _knew_ that Erik hated it, they had spoken of it several times during their weekly talks … The weekly talks that they no longer had because Erik had been a stupid son of a bitch and had all but thrown Charles out of _Genosha_ ; thrown him right into the waiting arms of the _Hellfire_ club …

He tried hard not to think about the fact that Charles might have deliberately chosen to go to _Hellfire_ exactly _because_ Erik disliked it so much. Not to spite Erik, of course – no, Charles was far too good to do something as petty as that; but rather because he must have known that the _Hellfire_ club was the last place on earth that Erik would ever deliberately set foot in.

There was no denying it now: Charles was avoiding Erik as if he were all seven of the deadly Biblical plagues combined.

He swallowed. ‘Go on,’ he said, turning to Alex. ‘What else happened?’

Alex sighed and shrugged. ‘Nothing, really,’ he admitted. ‘We just talked for a bit. Made up a bunch of shit when Hank asked us how we knew each other. I think he thinks we slept together or something,’ he said with a snort, before remembering who he was talking to and looking appropriately contrite. ‘But yeah, the doorman – you know that big red guy – Azazel? The one who looks like he’s about to spear you on the end of a pitchfork and roast you on an open fire? Yeah? Well – _total_ pussycat around Charles. _Everyone_ is. That ice-cold bitch of a bartender? The one who hates _everyone_? Yeah? _Loves_ Charles. Apparently they used to hang out in similar circles or something. I’m telling you man, it’s like there’s some crazy magic shit he has going on.’

Erik grunted. _He_ didn’t need to be told that. The very fact that he … sort of – well – _liked_ Charles was proof enough of Charles’s apparent “crazy magic shit”.

‘Did he say anything about me?’ he managed to ask at last.

Alex cocked his head. ‘How do you mean?’ he asked, considering.

Erik’s eyes narrowed. ‘I mean, _did he say anything about me_ ,’ he growled, glaring at Alex.

Alex scowled right back at him. ‘Did he say anything about you?’ he snapped. ‘Yeah, come to think of it, he did. He said “ _don’t tell that jackass Erik about this, okay?_ ” Only way more politer and British-er. Though I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind me adding the ‘jackass’ bit. S’not like you don’t deserve it.’

Erik frowned at Alex but was too caught up in his own thoughts to do anything more. If what Alex was saying was true (and even Erik had to admit that it probably was: Alex might be an irritating, interfering little bastard at the best of times, but one thing that you could never say about him was that he was a liar), then Charles had no intention of returning to _Genosha_ ; at least, not any time soon.

And that wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do _at all_.

He grimaced and forced himself to be honest: he liked Charles. Quite a bit. A lot more than he liked – well, _anyone_ else, really. He considered Charles a friend. And like Alex had said, it wasn’t as if he had an abundance of those. He needed to make a decision. Did he like Charles enough to want him back as a friend?

The answer was yes.

Did he like Charles enough to want him as _more_ than a friend?

Well, quite possibly.

Did he want to have sex with Charles again?

Most definitely yes.

Did he like Charles enough to swallow his pride, go after him, and apologise?

Ah, well. That was a slightly trickier question.

Erik had always been a proud man. Even as a child, even living in poverty and hardship as he had, he had always retained one thing: his pride. He had accepted help and charity when it was necessary, but he detested doing so.

Furthermore, he had made it a habit to never apologise for anything: not for being poor, not for his ill-fitting clothes, not for his violent temper – all the things that his former schoolmates had teased and goaded him for. All it had served to do was cement his distaste for others, making him cling all the tighter to his pride. Growing up and accumulating (relative) wealth had changed nothing. He paid his debts with remarkable punctuality and apologised for nothing. He was the way he was, and that was that.

…Only now it wasn’t. 

He had done wrong by Charles. He was man enough to admit that much. _That_ wasn’t the problem. He had been perfectly willing to apologise to Charles when he had thought that Charles would pop his head in at the bar. But now … now if he wanted to see Charles again, not only would he have to apologise, but he would have to actively _seek him out_ , which was a daunting enough task already even without the explicit knowledge that Charles wanted nothing more to do with him and was taking great pains to avoid him altogether.

… It would be a bit of a blow to his pride, was all.

And then what if after all that – even _after_ he had found him and apologised – Charles still wanted nothing to do with him? What then? Should he just give up and go home? Having done his best, should he just see this as yet another confirmation that he was right to not let anyone get close to him?

The idea was extraordinarily tempting and he played around with it for a moment. He would have done his duty and would have assuaged his conscience, and he would be free to go back to the way that things had always been before he had met Charles. Back before this whole mess and all these strange feelings had started. That sounded completely and utterly well and good and wholly satisfactory … except – except …

Except he was tired of that. It had taken him a while to realise that, but he knew it now. Magda had been the first clue, of course. She hadn’t even been anything special, when he thought about it. And yet he had clung to her as if he needed her, as if she were his salvation … as if she were the answer to his loneliness.

For that was what it was, Erik now realised. He was _lonely_. Much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t really enjoy being on his own any longer. It was fine enough when he was younger, but now it just felt … pathetic. It was all very well being a misanthrope, but now Erik just felt like a cheap imitation of one.

He sighed and cast a rueful glance at Alex, who was observing him nervously from out of the corner of his eye. Erik grimaced. He might as well go ahead and admit it to himself: unbelievable as it was, he _did_ consider Alex a friend.

Not that he would ever tell him that, of course. Not yet, at least. It wouldn’t do to make Alex _too_ comfortable around him. Erik _did_ need to find his entertainment _somewhere_ , after all. 

He let out another sigh as his thoughts returned to Charles. He toyed with the idea of spending more time mulling over the situation but Erik wasn’t a man who generally lied to himself and he definitely wasn’t about to start now. He knew that he didn’t need any more time to think about things. He knew that he had already come to a decision.

He wanted Charles. As a friend, as a – as _more_ than that, whatever. The point was, he missed him when he wasn’t there on Friday evenings and he wanted him back so that they could trade stories and anecdotes over glasses of beer, and so that everything could return to normal, to the way that things should be.

Feeling resolved, Erik straightened up and raised his chin.

It was decided: he was going to find Charles and bring him back to _Genosha_.

He turned on his heel and faced Alex, who jumped at the sudden movement.

‘Charles,’ Erik barked out. ‘He teaches up at the university?’

‘Y-yeah,’ Alex nodded, watching him almost fearfully.

‘Genetics, right?’

‘Um – yeah?’

‘Your friend … Hal-’

‘Hank.’

‘Hank, then. Whatever. He’s one of Charles’s students?’

‘Yeah?’

‘He knows Charles’s office hours?’

‘I guess?’

‘Then call him and make him tell you what they are.’

Alex quickly nodded and moved to obey before pausing. ‘Er – Erik?’ he asked almost timidly, nervously clutching at his phone. ‘What exactly do you plan on doing?’

Erik gave him a sharp look. ‘I’m going to get Charles back, of course,’ he said, allowing a small, hard little smile to grace his face. ‘We can’t leave him in the hands of those bastards at _Hellfire_ , after all.’

A faint smile slowly made its way onto Alex’s face and his expression was suddenly filled with hope. ‘No,’ he agreed, looking strangely proud in a way that made something warm up within Erik’s chest. ‘I guess we can’t.’

Not knowing how to respond, Erik let out an indecipherable grunt. ‘Make that call,’ he said instead, nodding at Alex’s phone, though his tone was slightly more gentle than normal. He glanced around at his bar and nodded to himself resolutely. ‘With any luck, Charles should be back with us by the end of the week.’

There was a pause.

Alex took a deep breath and made the call.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day found Erik standing outside of the university Science building, compulsively glancing at his watch and adjusting the suddenly-tight collar of his shirt every few seconds. 

He wasn’t nervous. He _wasn’t_. There wasn’t even anything to be nervous _about_. 

… Okay, so he had never ever really apologised to anyone before in his life (his mother being the exception, but he had been a child then and, well – mothers were _different_ ) and he wasn’t sure _quite_ how to go about it, or even if he would get a chance to make it – but even so. There was really no need to be nervous. Really. He was sure – he damn well _knew_ , godammit – that when he did actually get around to making it, his apology was going to be nothing short of super fucking successful.

Well … about 90% sure it was, anyway. Or maybe 80%. In any case, he was _reasonably_ certain that his apology would be accepted and that, his pride assuaged by Erik’s apology, Charles would stop this foolishness and drop the _Hellfire_ club like a bad habit and come back to _Genosha_ , where he belonged. 

That was the theory, at any rate.

Erik shuffled his feet and glanced again at his watch. It was now a quarter to eleven, and Charles would just be finishing up his first lecture of the day. According to the information provided by Alex’s nerd-friend Hank, Charles would then spend the next ten minutes after the end of class clarifying the day’s lecture to any students who wanted to discuss it further, after which he would head to a nearby café to have a mid-morning pick-me-up before returning to the university. 

Erik, wanting to see Charles as soon as possible (Friday _was_ just around the corner, after all, and he had no intention of spending it with no one but _Alex_ to keep him company), had carefully selected this as the most favourable time to make contact with him, hoping that Charles, happy to be free from his students and gratified by the coffee that Erik would naturally purchase for him, would be amenable to hearing Erik out.

Erik wouldn’t go so far as to call himself a strategic _mastermind_ , but even so he was well aware that his plan was _pretty_ darn clever. 

After five minutes, right on schedule, the doors of the building opened and impossible numbers of students started flooding out, all of them eager to get away from the classroom as soon as possible. Erik, annoyed at finding his view suddenly blocked by the oncoming herd, gritted his teeth and started to crane his neck, anxiously hoping that he wouldn’t miss Charles in the confusion. He was beginning to remember just why students irritated him so damn much. The crick in his neck that followed shortly after only further cemented his opinion.

Eventually, the place began to clear and Erik’s view of the Science building was left wide open. Just when he was on the verge of giving into his impatience, the doors swung open once more – and there Charles was, walking out with a smile on his face, listening in amusement as the woman next to him spoke animatedly and gestured widely with her hands. 

Erik’s eyes immediately narrowed and, before he knew it, he had stalked forward towards them.

It was only after he had stopped in front of a bemused-looking Charles and his equally surprised companion that Erik realised that maybe rudely interrupting Charles’s pleasant conversation was not the best way to get back into his good books.

‘… Erik?’ Charles’s face was scrunched up in confusion, and it almost seemed to take him a moment before he could place Erik in an environment outside of _Genosha_. This irked Erik to no end, even though he himself had felt the exact same feeling of displacement upon seeing Charles at the bar on a Saturday instead of a Friday. 

Forcefully repressing the burgeoning feelings of disgruntlement, Erik shaped his face into something vaguely pleasant and attempted a smile. ‘Charles,’ he said simply, giving him a nod in greeting.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

‘Did – do you have business here at the university?’ Charles asked slightly uncertainly, his brow still furrowed as he puzzled over Erik’s unexpected appearance before him.

Erik shuffled his feet. ‘In a way,’ he said, darting a glance at the woman next to Charles and scowling when he saw that she was regarding him with great curiosity. He cleared his throat and did his best to ignore her. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he said determinedly, lifting his chin and looking Charles in the eye, ‘I am here to see you.’

Charles looked, if possible, even more confused than he had before. ‘Me?’ he asked, nonplussed, his big blue eyes blinking wide. ‘Why on earth would you want to see _me_?’

Erik, who was finding this conversation difficult enough already, threw an irritated glance at the woman by Charles’s side. She was still watching curiously but her eyes had narrowed speculatively and she was now regarding Erik with a distinct sense of suspicion. 

Erik decided that he didn’t like her _at all_.

‘Is it possible that we might talk somewhere more _private_?’ he muttered through gritted teeth, jerking his head at the woman in a terribly unsubtle manner. ‘Somewhere that we could be _alone_?’

Charles’s lips tightened at that, and it was clear that he wasn’t at all pleased, although whether it was due to Erik’s suggestion or his manner was difficult to say. Nevertheless, he gave Erik a slight nod and turned to face the woman. 

‘Sorry about this, Moira,’ he said, sounding sincerely apologetic. He shrugged and gave her a wry smile. ‘It seems that something has come up.’

The woman – Moira – smiled back at Charles, and her expression was full of fondness and warmth. ‘It’s all right, Charles,’ she reassured him easily, reaching out to squeeze his arm. ‘I don’t mind.’ 

Erik resisted the urge to growl. 

Moira continued on, oblivious, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. ‘Besides,’ she said with a slight smirk, ‘it’s as it’s not as if it’s the first time we’ve had your admirers stalk you across the campus ...’

Charles’s face went bright red and he threw a quick glance at Erik before shaking his head furiously. ‘Oh no,’ he said hurriedly. ‘It’s not – Erik’s not … he’s just _not_.’

Erik irrationally felt his heart sink a little.

Moira was watching the both of them curiously. ‘Ok _ay_ ,’ she said slowly. From the way she was glancing at them both it was clear that she suspected that something was awry. Nevertheless, she quickly dismissed her curiosity and smiled at Charles instead. ‘Will you be free by lunch?’

Erik opened his mouth to firmly state that _no, Charles would most certainly **not** be free for lunch, you brazen hussy_ , but Charles spoke before he could even voice the first syllable.

‘Oh yes, quite.’ Charles said, a cheerful grin sliding over his face. ‘Erik and I should be done _long_ before then – we can’t possibly have much to say to each other. Is 12.30 okay?’

Erik’s stomach twisted itself tightly, and he felt unexpectedly stung. And to think that Charles hadn’t actually _meant_ to be hurtful …

… Not that _Erik_ could complain on that score, of course.

Moira was frowning in thought. ‘Make it one o’clock,’ she said decisively. ‘There’s some paperwork that needs doing but once I get that out of the way, I’ll be all yours.’

Charles’s smile immediately slid into a smirk. ‘You promise?’ he practically purred.

Erik stared.

Moira merely giggled and shoved Charles’s shoulder. ‘Now, now, Charles,’ she laughed. ‘A lunch date would never do. You _know_ that it’s dinner or nothing.’

Charles gave a gallant bow and kissed Moira’s hand. ‘For you, my darling Moira – anything!’

They were acting as if Erik wasn’t even there! Erik began to silently fume. His patience and self-control were quickly fading away and Moira must have noticed what Charles didn’t because she quickly sobered and gave him a small nudge.

‘Get on with you,’ she said gently. ‘You don’t want to keep your friend waiting.’

Charles’s lips thinned but thankfully he didn’t refute the label, which Erik couldn’t help but feel grateful for.

And then, just like that, he and Charles were alone, and Erik realised that he didn’t have the slightest clue how to start things.

Luckily, Charles was the first to speak.

‘I believe you have something you want to discuss with me?’ he queried, and his tone was one of bland politeness, the kind that you would use when talking to a distant stranger. 

Erik suppressed a wince and took advantage of the opening. ‘Yes, I do,’ he said firmly. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about for a while now.’

Charles gave him an inscrutable look before sighing. ‘I don’t suppose that this has anything to do with genetics and mutation, does it?’ he asked half-heartedly, a wry smile appearing on his face.

Erik smiled at that. ‘No,’ he said, almost apologetically. ‘It doesn’t.’ He glanced around them. ‘Do you – would – do you maybe want to go and get a drink?’

Charles’s expression immediately shifted and his face became unreadable once more. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible,’ he said coolly. ‘I have to be back at the university shortly and I really don’t like drinking during work hou-’

‘I didn’t mean _alcohol_ ,’ Erik interrupted, rolling his eyes. ‘Honestly Xavier, it’s not even midday. Just because I work in a bar …’ 

Charles flushed red at his mistake and he quickly mumbled an apology, determinedly avoiding Erik’s eye.

Erik sighed. It appeared that his teasing, which Charles would have once responded to with admirable gusto, had fallen decidedly flat.

‘A coffee,’ he said awkwardly, covering the painful pause. ‘I meant would you want to get a coffee while we talk, or something,’ he finished on a mumble.

Even then Charles looked indecisive.

‘Please?’ Erik added quickly, desperately.

Charles’s eyes flew to his. ‘All right,’ he said at last, relenting. He didn’t look at Erik and instead started walking, causing Erik to hurry to keep up with him. ‘There’s a nice little place just around the corner. We can talk there.’

Sure enough, within a few minutes – minutes in which Charles didn’t even look at Erik, let alone speak to him – they were at the café and ready to order. 

‘Here,’ Erik said quickly as they approached the counter. ‘Let me get your coffee.’

‘I prefer tea, actually,’ Charles said coolly, not even looking at him and instead gracing the barista with a warm, friendly smile. ‘And there’s entirely no need, I will get my own. The usual, please, Armando.’

The barista – this _Armando_ character – gave Charles a wide grin.

‘Sure thing, Prof,’ he said with a smile. ‘It’ll be up in a minute. What about you?’ he turned to Erik. ‘What can I get you?’

Erik, who didn’t like the overly-friendly way that Charles had _smiled_ at the _barista_ , grunted something out which Armando (who was particularly fluent in Grumpy Bastard, having worked the early morning shift for a considerable while) acknowledged with a nod before going off to attend to the orders. They were served briskly and efficiently and the transaction was soon completed, Darwin sending them an easy smile and Charles thanking Darwin with a pleased warmth that _surely_ exceeded the gratitude one felt upon receiving a perfectly ordinary cup of tea and a pastry that one had _paid_ for. Erik grimly resolved not to leave a tip.

‘So,’ Charles began when they had eventually been seated and had taken the first few sips of their respective drinks. ‘What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?’

Erik took a bracing sip of coffee (which was actually pretty damn good, however much he wanted to hate something that had been made by the overly-friendly _Armando_ ) before setting his cup down and clearing his throat.

‘I just wanted to-’ and his throat stuck. Charles was watching him with an eyebrow raised up ever so slightly as he delicately sipped his tea and Erik was hit with a sudden burst of completely characteristic stubbornness and resentment. God knows that he was _trying_ but it wasn’t as if _Charles_ wasn’t being rude – and okay, so _his_ rudeness may take the form of excessive and exaggerated politeness, but that still didn’t make it okay in Erik’s book. _Why_ was it exactly that Erik was apologising in the first place?

‘Erik?’ Charles had set his tea down and was now looking at Erik with concern and worry in his beautiful blue eyes and ah – _there_ it was. _That_ was why Erik was going to apologise.

‘I wanted to say sorry,’ Erik said firmly, smiling grimly when Charles’s head jerked up in surprise. ‘I acted … _badly_ that day. I know it. I shouldn’t have reacted like that and I’ve been regretting it for a while now.’ There, was that enough? Was that an apology? Could he stop now? He glanced over at Charles. He was watching Erik with a small frown on his face. Perhaps Erik should say more? ‘I know I disappointed you with my behaviour that day, and I completely understand why. It was wrong of me. I deserve your anger – I realise that, I truly do. And I just – I’m sorry.’ He looked up hopefully at that. Surely that was enough? Surely he would be forgiven _now_? He had now said that he was sorry _twice_ , for god’s sake!

Charles was watching him thoughtfully. It was a moment before he spoke. ‘Okay,’ he said slowly, as if turning Erik’s words over in his mind. He then nibbled on his pastry and took a long sip of his tea before letting out a sigh and sitting up straight in his seat. ‘I’m glad you realised that what you did was wrong, Erik. I don’t blame you for wanting something brief and uncomplicated but-’ He hesitated for a moment before raising his chin and forging on ahead determinedly, ‘- But you and I both know that what you did that night was _not_ the right way to deal with the situation.’ He suddenly huffed out a wry laugh. ‘In fact, I would even go as far as to say that that was completely the _wrong_ way to deal with it.’ He paused then, and his expression became serious once more as he raised his eyes to Erik’s. ‘But thank you for coming to tell me,’ he said solemnly. ‘I am truly glad that you came to this conclusion and that you realise how hurtful your behaviour was. I – I would be greatly saddened if it were to happen again to someone other than myself.’

There was a pause then, at which they both lapsed into silence.

Erik stared at Charles blankly.

He hadn’t expected Charles to react in this way. Yes, he wasn’t quite sure _how_ he had expected Charles to react, but he sure as hell hadn’t thought that the matter would be treated in the same way that Charles might address a problem with one of his fucking _students_.

Erik swallowed. No more, he decided. He’d had enough of this polite, clinical bullshit. It was time to pull out the big guns.

It was time to be brave. Fortune favoured the bold, and all that.

He sat up straight in his seat, bracing himself. ‘But, you see – that’s the thing,’ he said firmly, leaning forward and valiantly meeting Charles’s eyes. ‘Charles – I don’t _want_ it to happen to _other_ people.’ His eyes widened at Charles’s sudden hurt look. ‘Not that I wanted to hurt _you_ ,’ he added hurriedly. ‘What I mean is – I don’t think that I _want_ to sleep with other, random people.’ There. He’d said it.

Charles was staring at him with an unreadable expression. ‘Erik…’ he said slowly, his gaze fixed and intent. ‘What exactly are you saying?’

Erik took a deep breath. This was it. This was his declaration of intent.

‘I’m saying that I want _you_ ,’ he said firmly. He paused and wracked his brain, trying to think of what next to say. ‘It seems – it seems that I’ve grown tired of finding some new person to sleep with every night,’ he said at last. ‘It’s – it’s become old. I don’t want that any more.’ He looked beseechingly at Charles. ‘I want _you_.’

Charles’s face was expressionless. ‘I see,’ he said, his voice cool.

Erik quickly hurried to add more. ‘What we had was _good_ that night, Charles,’ he said, leaning forward persuasively. ‘We were _good_ together. Better than good. Don’t tell me that you didn’t feel the same way. _You_ felt it too, I know you did, or you wouldn’t have come back the next day even when you weren’t supposed t-’ Erik noticed the growing flintiness of Charles’s eyes and quickly backtracked. ‘What I mean is – we _worked_ , Charles. That night was – well – _amazing_. It would be a shame – and I’m sure that you would agree – to leave it the way it ended, to never have that again.’

Charles was watching Erik intently now. ‘So what you are saying is …’ he trailed off, waiting for Erik to finish the sentence for him. 

‘What I am saying is that I want us to pick up where we left off,’ Erik said, leaning forward and gazing earnestly into Charles’s inscrutable eyes. ‘I want for us to be together. We _belong_ together, you and I.’ Erik wasn’t at all sure that he wasn’t laying it on a bit thick (that last sentence in particular seemed to have come out of nowhere) but at this point he didn’t much care what he said as long as he managed to get Charles back.

He _had_ to get Charles back. 

… Surely he _would_ get Charles back, now that he had apologised, now that he had laid all of his cards on the table?

He clasped his hands in his lap and watched Charles closely, his heart beating fast as he awaited Charles’s response, feeling for all the world like a convict awaiting his sentence. 

Charles didn’t respond immediately. He took a long sip of his tea, silent for a good few minutes as he considered everything that had been said. Finally, he sighed and put his cup down, sitting up a little straighter in preparation to speak. ‘I’ve heard everything you had to say,’ he said carefully, his eyes on his fingers instead of on Erik. ‘And now I suppose that it’s only fair that I have my say.’ He paused, as if allowing Erik to contest this fact. Erik, needless to say, had no intention of doing such a thing.

Charles shifted awkwardly in his seat before finally raising his eyes up to meet Erik’s.

‘I think you are attractive,’ he said, apropos of nothing, catching Erik (quite pleasantly) off guard. Erik was just opening his mouth to return the compliment when Charles continued. ‘I thought so from the moment that I first saw you at _Genosha_. As you’ve probably guessed, that was one of the reasons that I _kept_ going there – at least, it was at first. And when we started talking, I found that I liked you. You were smart and funny – and yes, you may not have been the _nicest_ person that I’ve ever encountered, but I liked you all the same.’ Charles swallowed. ‘We became friends. We _were_ friends. And I liked that.’ There was a pause before Charles’s voice suddenly turned cold. ‘But then – then you changed things.’

Erik had a sudden icy feeling that things were going to start to go downhill from here.

He wasn’t wrong. 

‘One minute we were laughing and talking as normal – as _friends_ – and the next … the next minute you were being all charming and _flirting_ with me.’ Charles shrugged. ‘And that was fine, that was completely fine. I had a good time that night, I’m not denying that in the least.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But – and I am truly sorry Erik – I cannot help but feel that you took advantage of me that night.’ Erik opened his mouth to protest but Charles determinedly carried on, ignoring him. ‘What is more, I cannot help but feel that I must have meant very little to you as a friend for you to have behaved in such a way to me. Had you simply _explained_ to me the next day that you weren’t looking for anything serious … well, my pride might have taken a bit of a bruising, but I would have got over myself quickly enough and – and we would still have been friends.’

Erik felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of icy cold water all over him. ‘You-’ his voice came out strangled and he needed to clear his throat in order to become more coherent. ‘You mean – you mean – we aren’t still friends now?’ he asked weakly, not even caring that he sounded pathetic even to himself.

Charles looked at Erik and for a moment there was a flicker of pity in his eyes and Erik _hoped_ … but then Charles was shaking his head and looking away.

‘I am sorry, Erik,’ he said gravely, and – even worse – his voice was sincerely _apologetic_. ‘I truly am, but I could never be friends with someone who does not value my company or does not take me seriously.’ And though his voice was apologetic, it was nevertheless firm and resolute. ‘It just wouldn’t work. I honestly don’t think that we have an equal _respect_ for each other – and, if my mother taught me _anything_ , it is that the foundation of _any_ relationship – be it friendly or sexual – should always be based on _respect_ and _trust_. In this case, Erik, I’m afraid that you lack the former and I lack the latter.’ He shook his head. ‘I am sorry, but with things as they are, I do not think that we can friends, let alone _lovers_ of any sort.’

Erik opened and closed his mouth but no words came out. He was on the verge of panicking now. He had _apologised_ , godammit, how could this not be _working_? 

‘But Charles,’ he managed through gritted teeth, his hands scrabbling out until they had grasped Charles’s own. ‘I’m not _like_ that anymore, I promise you. Charles – we want the same thing, you and I!’

Charles calmly regarded the hands that were clutching at his. ‘Oh Erik,’ he said sadly, and then he was pulling his own hands away, using the finger and thumb of his right hand to delicately pick away Erik’s grasping fingers from his left. ‘I am sorry, but I am afraid we do not.’

Erik pulled his hands away and glared. He was not going to let things go at that.

‘The hell we don’t!’ he growled, digging his fingers into the tabletop. ‘You’re trying to tell me that there can never be anything between us, but I say _fuck_ that. That is – that is _ridiculous_ , is what it is – and _you’re_ being ridiculous as well. I _apologised_ for Christ’s sake, are you telling me that it means nothing?’

‘I’m not-’ Charles began, but Erik didn’t let him finish.

‘And I’m offering – do you _know_ how many people would give their _legs_ for a chance to have what I am offering you right now?’ Somewhere in Erik’s mind there was a tiny brain cell that was suggesting that this was, perhaps, not the way to win Charles over, but he was too worked up to pay any attention to it right now. 

Charles, however, appeared to be giving _him_ his full attention. As Erik watched, Charles let out a distinctly irritated sigh and rubbed his forehead. It was clear that he had finally had enough of exuding a Zen-like calm and was now on the verge of losing his temper.

‘Listen to me, Erik-’

‘Not before you-’

‘I said _listen_!’ Charles snapped, and the entire café immediately quietened and looked in their direction – even, Erik was annoyed to note, Armando the too-smooth-for-his-own-good barista. 

Sensing the attention that he had garnered, Charles closed his eyes and made a palpable effort to calm himself. His face when he next spoke, however, was flushed red and this time the flush was neither due to embarrassment nor to Erik’s skilful ministrations in bed.

‘Far from changing my mind, your outburst there has me firmly convinced that we are completely unsuited to each other,’ he said coldly, brushing away the crumbs of his now fully-eaten pastry with a paper napkin. ‘And as for your proposal, I am afraid that I would like to be your lover even less than I would like to be your friend. And now I believe that we are quite out of time. Goodbye, Erik. And please – don’t come here again.’

And with that, Charles rose from his seat and walked out of the café, leaving Erik sitting there, stunned and feeling that maybe – just maybe – he might have deserved that.

*****

‘So,’ Alex started the moment Erik walked back into the pub, apparently completely blind to the lightning-skewed thundercloud that was raging over Erik’s head. ‘How’d it go? Am I looking at the future Mr. Xavier?’

His insides shrivelled up as Erik turned to face him with the most devilish, fearsome expression on his face that Alex had ever seen.

 

Five minutes later, Alex was pulling off his shirt in the backroom of the pub, cringing as his beer-soaked shirt _thwapped_ wetly against his bare skin.

Apparently Erik’s little reconciliation hadn’t gone well.

Incidentally, Alex’s celebratory pitcher of beer hadn’t been appreciated either.

‘Why do I even bother?’ Alex muttered as he squeezed beer out of his hair. ‘Why do I even fucking _bother_?’


	5. Chapter 5

Erik was nothing short of a nightmare following his disastrous meeting with Charles. 

The source of his near-insurmountable bad mood was perfectly obvious but in those first few days Erik didn’t so much as mention Charles’s name, let alone appear to give any thought to contacting him again. It was as if he was trying to pretend that the incident had never occurred by determinedly pushing the matter into the furthest corner of his mind and just leaving it there, where he’d never have to think about it again.

If this grumpy form of deliberate repression had been the extent of Erik’s bad mood then Alex would have been perfectly content. Unfortunately, if one could say anything about Erik, it was that he didn’t half know how to throw a temper tantrum.

The entire week after the university debacle was plagued with terrifying fits of intolerable sulking and moodiness, not to mention Erik’s close conviction (expressed through the medium of what Alex thought was technically called ‘unhinged ranting’) that all university-based persons were deplorable bastards whose sole purpose in life was to make his existence miserable, and that he would never let those “self-important little shits” into his precious bar ever again for as long as he might live. These rants were generally followed by Erik stalking up and down the length of his bar with his eyes narrowed into terrifying slits as he glared at anyone who even remotely resembled an impoverished student or studious professor type.

Alex tried to avoid Erik as much as he could during this period – which, considering the fact that it was actually rather difficult to avoid someone that you worked in such close proximity to every evening, was not very much at all. By extension, Alex’s friend Hank, who normally dropped by the bar at least once or twice a week on average, didn’t so much as poke his head in once during that entire time for fear of another interrogation at Erik’s hands.

He had also become quite adept at screening Alex’s calls since that night, much to Alex’s chagrin.

Needless to say, the mood in _Genosha_ since the University Incident was very much not at an all time high.

Alex, who was the poor unfortunate soul who was forced to bear the brunt of this moodiness, was – quite understandably – Not At All Pleased. While he had at first been supportive of Erik’s desire to apologise to Charles and reconnect with him, having initially hoped that maybe Erik would learn something from this renewed association, he was now beginning to regret putting any such emotional investment into what was obviously a hopeless plan that was doomed to fail miserably and leave them all wallowing in desolation and despair. Indeed, as time went by, he found himself hoping more and more that Erik’s obsession with Charles would begin to recede so that they could just forget all about the whole sorry incident and move on.

He was therefore really very disappointed when, two weeks later, Erik walked into the pub on his one day off, stalked right up to Alex, fixed him with an intense stare, and revealed his renewed plan of conquest to him.

The plan, naturally, involved browbeating Alex and – by virtue of his connection with both Alex and Charles – Hank into helping him. 

Alex, unsurprisingly, took great objection to said browbeating. 

‘You can’t be serious!’ he exploded, unable to believe what he was hearing.

The expression on Erik’s face was, unfortunately, the textbook definition of ‘serious’.

Alex’s heart sank when he realised this. ‘Isn’t there anyone else you can rope into this shit?’ he whined pitifully, widening his eyes in what he had been told was a simultaneously endearing and pathetic expression on him.

Erik simply glared at him and folded his arms, unmoved.

Alex’s shoulders slumped. ‘Oh yeah,’ he muttered grumpily, scowling at Erik. ‘That’s right. There _isn’t_ anyone else.’

Erik didn’t deign to respond to this and spoke as if Alex hadn’t opened his mouth. ‘You need to get your nerd friend-’

‘Hank,’ Alex corrected.

‘Hank,’ Erik gestured impatiently. ‘Whatever. You need to get him here as soon as possible.’

Alex straightened up at that, abruptly growing a backbone. ‘Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ there, Speedy Gonzales,’ he said emphatically, crossing his arms across his chest. He bravely didn’t flinch under the scowl that Erik threw him. ‘ _I_ may be the poor sucker stuck here with you to pay for some horrible, _horrible_ thing that me or one of my ancestors did in a past life, but Hank is completely innocent. You leave him out of this.’

‘Not happening,’ Erik said flatly.

‘Damn right it’s not happening!’ Alex growled. ‘ _I_ may be your hapless, brainless thrall in this place but you haven’t sucked the soul out of Hank just yet and you’re not _going_ to if I have anything to do with it!’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Erik said coolly, folding his arms over his chest. 

‘You bet your life!’ Alex snarled, his hackles rising.

Erik merely raised an eyebrow.

Twenty minutes later Alex found himself in the middle of a very awkward conversation with Hank, holding the phone close to his ear while Erik breathed down his neck.

‘Yeah, you should come by,’ Alex was saying in a strained, faux-casual voice. He winced and glanced sideways at Erik. ‘No, no, he’s not around,’ he said, clearly lying through his teeth. ‘He won’t be here till tomorrow. It’s my solo shift tonight – _you_ know that, Hank.’ He winced again. ‘ _Yeah_ , I’m sure. Come on man, don’t be chicken.’ He paused before rolling his eyes. ‘Yes, yes, I’m sure that chickens actually have highly underrated survival instincts. Come _on_ , Hank. Live a little!’

There was a pause and then Alex eventually let out a small breath of relief. ‘That’s great man,’ he said almost thankfully. ‘See you later, yeah?’

He hung up a moment later. Taking a moment to steel himself, he slowly straightened up before turning to Erik, a glum expression on his face. ‘You’re an asshole, you know that right?’

‘It’s been said before,’ Erik admitted with a careless shrug.

‘Why am I not surprised,’ Alex grumbled, even though he was pretty sure that at least 70% of the time _he_ was the one who was informing Erik of this previously-stated unfortunate characteristic.

It was almost an hour later when Hank finally walked into _Genosha_. He made it almost all the way to the bar before he realised that he had been hoodwinked, remaining completely oblivious right until the moment when the crowd parted in time for him to see Erik glance up from where he was tending the bar.

Hank’s reaction was immediate. He promptly whirled back around, his eyes wide and his heart thumping fast, eager to leave the bar as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible … only for him to bump straight into Alex.

‘Sorry buddy,’ Alex said, sounding genuinely apologetic as he reached out to clasp Hank firmly by the arm. ‘I didn’t want to do this.’

‘Then _don’t_!’ Hank pleaded, sounding panicked.

‘Sorry, man,’ Alex said, shaking his head ruefully. ‘Nothing I can do.’

Poor Hank was then forcefully hauled over before Erik, who generously took a second out of his bartending duties to give him an appraising look. Hank quailed under the scrutiny and inched subtly backwards into Alex’s space.

‘Give me a minute to finish up,’ Erik said after a long moment, his tone brusque. ‘I will be with you shortly.’ He then proceeded to ignore Hank and Alex and went back to serving the customers waiting in front of him.

It was a few minutes before the crowd around Erik dispersed, but the moment that he had finished he wiped off his hands on the nearest bar rag and then turned to face them.

‘Right,’ he said, looking from Hank’s terrified face to Alex’s scowling one. ‘Alex’s friend-’

‘Hank,’ Hank offered nervously.

‘Yes, Hank,’ Erik sounded impatient. ‘I need you to do something for me again.’

Hank looked more than a little apprehensive. ‘Is it anything illegal?’ he asked dubiously, trying to straighten up and look less like a pushover.

Erik gave him a look. Alex merely shrugged, as if he acknowledged the question to be a valid one. ‘No,’ Erik said slowly. ‘It’s not illegal.’

Hank blinked at him owlishly. ‘Is it anything like what you made me do last time?’ he asked after a moment.

Erik’s teeth glinted. ‘Hank,’ he murmured, his mouth stretching into a sharp and terrifying smile, ‘It is _exactly_ like what I made you do last time.’

Hank’s eyes widened. ‘But I already got you Professor Xavier’s university schedule!’ he protested, sounding defensive.

‘Yes, you did,’ Erik agreed, his tone soothing. ‘And now I need you to find out what Professor Xavier’s _out of_ university schedule is.’

Hank blanched. ‘W-what?’ he stammered, looking rather like a deer caught in the headlights of a gigantic monster-truck – with emphasis on the ‘monster’. ‘How am I supposed to find _that_ out?’

Erik gave him another sharp-toothed smile. ‘The same way you would get any information,’ he said sweetly. ‘You _ask_.’

Hank gulped at that. ‘A-ask?’ he repeated, sounding dazed.

Erik shrugged. ‘Or beg, or borrow, or steal – whatever you like, really. Just get me that information.’

Hank whimpered.

Alex couldn’t help but intervene at that. ‘Erik, come on man,’ he said in his most winning, persuasive voice – which, unfortunately, to Erik’s ears sounded an awful lot like whining. ‘This is _Hank_ we’re talking about. He’s about as subtle as a _rock_ – and that’s even without the fact that he’s got this great big girly crush on the Professor-’

Hank’s squeak of protest was immediately drowned out by the loud snarl that left Erik’s lips. Both Alex and Hank’s mouths instantly snapped shut and, as one, they took a nervous step backwards.

With an effort, Erik reined himself in. ‘Oh, I’m quite sure that Hank is _perfectly_ capable of getting things done,’ he said pleasantly, clasping his hands behind his back to hide the sinister way that they were flexing. ‘ _Particularly_ if he has the right motivation.’ He gave them both his toothiest smile, his eyes meeting Hank’s full-on.

Alex had to all but wrestle Hank to the ground to keep him from running out of the bar in terror.

It took another quarter of an hour of Erik convincing (or rather bullying, if you asked Alex) Hank before the poor boy finally gave in and agreed to find out more about Charles’s schedule outside of work.

Charles, after all, had been quite plain in his meaning when he had told Erik to never go to the university again. And Erik, for all intents and purposes, fully intended to obey that order to the letter.

So it was that Erik found himself conveniently in the mood for artichoke hearts just as he was (also very conveniently) walking by a supermarket near to where Charles lived, on the very morning that Charles did his usual weekly shop. All by complete coincidence, of course. It had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact that Hank had reported that Charles was inordinately fond of fresh produce, with artichokes strangely being something of a personal favourite.

Erik stared at the artichoke in his hand with a concentration that even the most enthusiastic vegetable gardener would have found hard to match. He was well aware of Charles’s approach behind him from the squeak of his shopping trolley, but he determinedly did not look around. At least, not until he heard:

‘… Erik?’

Pasting on an expression of mild disinterest, Erik slowly turned around, still clutching the artichoke in his hand. 

‘Erik?’ Charles asked again, biting his lip in a way that was really not at all even a tiny bit attractive as they faced each other. ‘What – what are you doing here?’

_Stalking you_ , Erik thought.

‘Shopping,’ Erik said.

Charles’s eyebrow rose in what was clearly an expression of disbelief.

Erik forced himself to ignore the fact that he found Charles’s arched eyebrow really rather attractive.

‘Forbidding me to go shopping now, are you Charles?’ he drawled instead, watching in satisfaction as Charles flushed. ‘Then again, why not – you’ve already forbidden me from ever setting foot at the university … What’s a supermarket in comparison?’

Charles grimaced, his face still bright red. ‘Ah,’ he said, his mouth quirking in a wry twist. ‘Yes. I’d actually rather been hoping that I would see you again soon. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.’ He glanced at the area around them and sighed. ‘The supermarket is as fortuitous a place as anywhere, I suppose.’

Erik couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward in curiosity. ‘You – you wanted to see me again?’ he asked disbelievingly, unable to prevent himself from feeling the tiniest flicker of hope. 

Charles’s eyes narrowed. ‘Please don’t get me wrong, I meant every word that I said that day,’ he said coldly. ‘I merely wish that it had happened in quite a different way from how it turned out.’ He sighed then and shook his head, grimacing slightly. ‘I guess I was more upset than I had realised.’

‘You had every right to be,’ Erik said generously, eager to exploit this small chink of regret in Charles’s armour and make peace. 

Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘I know,’ he said dryly, his voice firm as he looked Erik in the eye.

Erik was forced to look away, abashed.

Charles sighed. ‘Nevertheless,’ he continued after a moment, tiredly raking a hand through his hair. ‘I can’t help but feel that I was perhaps quite harsh with you. Not that you didn’t deserve it, of course,’ he said quickly, ‘Because we both know that you very much did. But that still does not excuse the fact that I was rude to you. I allowed my feelings to get in the way of my better nature and my anger got the better of me. I’m not going to apologise for it,’ Charles held Erik’s eyes with his own, ‘but I would like you to know that I have acknowledged it.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘In addition, it was wrong of me to forbid you from ever going to the university. Of course you may go there. Just …’ he trailed off.

‘Just don’t go near you?’ Erik finished for him, not without a sense of bitterness.

Charles’s brow crinkled. Erik could tell that it was taking all of Charles’s considerable iron will to not give in to his sympathy. 

‘I honestly do think that it’s for the best,’ Charles said in that damnably earnest voice of his. 

Erik scowled and quickly turned away, feeling stung. He looked down at the artichoke in his hand. He didn’t even bloody _like_ artichokes.

‘We can’t even be friends?’ he asked in a tight voice, still not looking at Charles. 

Charles’s face made a complicated expression. ‘… I didn’t think that that would be something that you would be particularly interested in,’ he said at last, sounding strangely cautious.

Erik almost choked. ‘Not – what do you think that at the university was?’ he demanded, whirling around and glaring.

Charles’s cheeks warmed and he shifted awkwardly. ‘Well, it didn’t much sound like you wanted to be _friends_ ,’ he said dryly, giving Erik a pointed look.

Erik had the grace to blush. ‘Of course I want to be your friend, Charles,’ he said, glaring down at his shoes. ‘And I’m _sure_ I said as much at the time.’ Actually, he wasn’t. He barely remembered anything of what he had said that day. All he remembered was Charles’s coldness, and the wretched feeling of something akin to panic in his heart when he had realised that not only was this not going to be half as easy as he had stupidly imagined, but that there was a very real chance that this was a relationship that was completely irreparable and that it was all his fault.

Charles’s mouth tightened imperceptibly. ‘Well forgive me if I wasn’t – if I’m _still_ – not fully convinced of your ability to fully _appreciate_ any semblance of friendship that we might be able to enjoy,’ he said icily. 

Erik couldn’t help but shudder. If Charles happy and friendly was the warm shining sun at summer, then a Charles angry and bitter was the freezing cold frost at the height of winter.

‘I’m sorry,’ he swallowed hard, his hands balled into fists and his head turned away, unable to meet Charles’s eyes. ‘Charles, I – I’m sorry.’

When he finally worked up the courage to look at Charles again, he saw that his expression was once again pinched, and that he wore a look of frustration on his face.

Erik opened his mouth to speak but Charles got there first.

‘Damn you,’ he muttered, and he genuinely did look upset. ‘Why can’t you just …’ He again raked a hand through his hair and sighed. Then he looked up at Erik, a weary expression on his face. ‘Can’t you just leave it alone?’ he asked tiredly.

Erik blinked. ‘Huh?’ he said dumbly.

But Charles was scowling now. ‘It’s not fair,’ he said, before repeating it almost vehemently. ‘It’s not _fair_! It’s not fair that you come here and make me feel like the guilty party, not when you-’ he cut himself off abruptly. He then turned and glared at Erik. ‘By all rights I shouldn’t even be standing here listening to you. I should really just be telling you to sod off. In fact – here – _sod off_!’

But Erik knew weakness and vulnerability when he saw it, and if that weakness was that Charles was a genuinely _good_ person who disliked disliking people, then he would damn well take whatever he could get and _use_ it. He knew an in-road when he found one, and, low as it made him feel to take advantage of Charles ( _again_ , the – only recently arisen – self-flagellating part of his mind reminded him), it was all in the sake of a good cause.

‘Charles, _please_ ,’ he murmured, leaning forward and widening his eyes in a way that he hoped made him look pitiful and defenceless rather than psychotic. ‘Don’t ask me to leave.’

Charles hesitated and bit his lip, looking torn.

Erik held his breath and tentatively reached out a hand to gently touch his arm but Charles frowned and stepped out of the way before it could reach him.

‘I-’ Charles started and stopped. He glanced once at Erik and then down at his feet. Then with a shake of his head and with one last doubtful look at Erik, he abruptly turned around and walked away, pushing his trolley in front of him.

Erik stood there for a second, bemused, before the voice of reason inside his head (which, rather mortifyingly, sounded quite a lot like Alex) made his brain kick into gear. Giving himself a shake, he quickly strode off after Charles, catching up to him within a few seconds. 

It was only after he reached Charles’s side that he realised that he didn’t have a clue what to say next. So he said the first thing that came into his head.

‘Can I push your trolley for you?’ he blurted, feeling really rather foolish the moment that the words left his mouth. The words were equally startling to Charles, who looked surprised to see that Erik was still next to him.

‘… No,’ Charles said after a moment, frowning and gripping the trolley tightly. ‘I assure you, I am perfectly capable of pushing it myself. But thank you all the same.’ He then quickly swivelled his trolley around to go down a different aisle, hoping to lose Erik.

Erik, of course, was not so easily dislodged.

‘Can I help you with your shopping?’ he asked instead, polite to a fault. 

Charles ignored him.

‘Can I get that for you?’ Erik asked when Charles strained to reach a jar on the top shelf. ‘Being taller and everything …’ He stopped when Charles glared at him and snatched the bottle out of Erik’s hand. 

Erik didn’t know why he was so upset. Erik _liked_ that Charles was shorter than him. It was a perfect height, really, just right for … He blinked and cleared his throat a little, hoping that his face wasn’t too red. Thinking about Charles and the dimensions of his body put him in mind of things that it was probably very inappropriate to think about when in a supermarket full of innocent, unsuspecting civilians. He quickly shoved the memories onto the backburner, filing them somewhere where they would be ready for him to pull out and think about later, when in private.

His mind clear once more, Erik proceeded to follow Charles all the way through the rest of his shopping, trying his best to be helpful but in reality just irritating Charles even more than before. 

It wasn’t that he did not appreciate Erik’s persistence, Charles told himself repeatedly as he stalked up and down the supermarket aisles with Erik close on his heels. It was just that he wasn’t quite ready to forgive him just yet.

Erik, it seemed, was trying to do his level best to remedy that.

‘Allow me to pay for your shopping,’ he blurted out when they finally reached the tills, feeling more than a little anxious from Charles’s studious disregard of him and desperate to do anything that would put him back in Charles’s good books. He hastily patted around in his pockets, searching for his wallet and mentally preparing himself for the bill, trying to justify the expense to himself. Sure, the supermarket was a bit pricier than the usual places that Erik shopped at, but that was nothing compared to the thought of earning Charles’s forgiveness.

Charles, however, abruptly stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face Erik. ‘Why on earth would I want you to pay for my shopping?’ he asked in a mixture of genuine puzzlement and frustration.

Erik’s mouth worked soundlessly and he winced internally at the levels of pathetic-ness that he had reached. ‘I don’t know,’ he said at last, scowling down at his feet.

Charles let out a sigh and rubbed at his face. He cast a helpless look around him and hesitated before finally speaking. ‘Erik, you really needn’t do this,’ he said quietly.

Erik gritted his teeth together. He didn’t even try to pretend that he didn’t know what Charles was talking about. Instead, he continued to look down at his feet and tried to choose his words carefully. ‘No,’ he agreed after a moment, his voice halting slightly. ‘I don’t need to. But I _want_ to.’

Charles looked strangely surprised to hear this. He bit his lip in thought, studying Erik, before sighing. When he next spoke, his voice was almost sad. ‘I wish I knew what you wanted from me,’ he said unhappily, the corners of his mouth turning down.

Erik’s chest seized at the forlorn expression and for some reason he found himself feeling miserable.

_Huh_ , he thought to himself. _So this is what empathy is like._

‘I don’t know,’ he said honestly, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know what I want either.’

Charles looked away. ‘Then I think we’ve found your problem,’ he said, finally looking back at Erik with a tired expression. ‘You have no idea what you want, Erik. From me, from others … from _yourself_.’ He paused then and swallowed. ‘I think that – for your own sake – maybe you had better figure that out.’

_But I do know_ , Erik thought as he watched Charles finish paying for his purchases and walk out of the supermarket without looking back. _I do know what I want. I want you._

Needless to say, the answer was more than a bit late.

*****

‘I don’t know if this is going to work,’ Erik admitted, five beers in. ‘I’ve tried, but he just doesn’t seem to _care_. I don’t know what else I can do.’

Alex immediately rolled his eyes. ‘You’ve only tried _twice_ ,’ he said reasonably. ‘That’s hardly _anything_.’

‘And I don’t think that the Professor doesn’t _care_ ,’ Hank added loyally. 

The bar was closed for the night and Erik, Alex and Hank were sat around one of the tables, officially for the business of plotting Erik’s next move, but in actual fact just commiserating Erik’s failed attempt at wooing Charles in a supermarket. Needless to say, there was a lot of alcohol involved.

‘It’s _hard_ ,’ Erik was saying, his tone one of dismay. ‘All this _apologising_. Why does he have to make everything so damned _hard_?’

Alex snorted. ‘Yeah well, no offence or anything, Erik, but you were kind of a massive dick to him,’ he pointed out, making Hank hiccup and edge ever so slightly away from the two of them. ‘Of _course_ he’s making it hard.’

Erik stared forlornly into his glass and sighed. ‘Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘I think you’re right.’

Hank and Alex shared a startled glance. Alex resisted the urge to get out his camera and record the moment for posterity and instead decided to do humanity a massive favour and make hay while the sun still shone. In this case, that meant making Erik open up about his feelings. No small feat, then. But, as Hank was so fond of telling him, David had beaten Goliath before so there was no reason why it shouldn’t work again. 

... At least, he _thought_ that was what Hank had said. Alex didn’t know, he didn’t even really listen to Hank all that much. Not when he started babbling, at any rate. And boy, did Hank do that a lot.

‘Here’s the deal,’ Alex said instead, leaning closer to Erik. ‘I think it’s pretty damn obvious that you like Charles. And why wouldn’t you – he’s a great guy. That being said, I think that it’s also pretty damn obvious that you don’t know what the hell you are doing. To be blunt – you’re fucking things up.’ He met Erik’s blank gaze solemnly. ‘Face it, Erik – it’s time you stopped being an ass. It’s time that you started to man up and tried to figure things out.’

Erik, who had been listening to Alex’s rant almost expressionlessly, now raised an eyebrow.

Alex hastened to elaborate. ‘It’s time to figure out what it is that you actually _want_ ,’ he said seriously. ‘Wasn’t that what Charles said was wrong? That you didn’t know _why_ you were doing whatever the hell it was that you were doing and that it was about time that you figured it out? He’s got a point, Erik. I mean, I, for one, think that it’s about time that you put some thought into just _why_ you want to make it up to Charles so bad. Because I’ve seen you being a bastard to a lot of people, Erik – and trust me, I mean a _lot_ of people – but not once have I ever seen you try to apologise, let alone work so hard at it. So you tell me: seriously, what’s the deal with you and this guy?’

Erik scowled.

Alex scowled back.

Hank quivered in his seat and prepared to dive under the table.

Surprisingly, it was Erik who broke first.

‘I don’t know!’ he growled, glancing over at his empty beer glass and scowling all the harder. He caught Alex’s flat stare and then grimaced. ‘Fine. So yeah – I like him.’ He shrugged. ‘You already knew that.’

‘Yes, but what do you actually _want_ from him?’ This time it was Hank who spoke. Apparently, Alex winning the scowl-off had impressed him and had given him the courage to actually join the discussion instead of glancing nervously between his two drinking companions every two seconds.

Erik didn’t answer.

Alex sighed and rubbed his eyes. This was going to take a lot of patience. ‘Look at it this way,’ he said as calmly as he could manage. ‘Do you want him to come back to _Genosha_? Do you want to be his friend? … Do you want to be _more_ than that …?’

Erik grunted.

Alex and Hank both sat up.

‘What did you say?’ Alex angled an ear towards Erik. ‘We didn’t quite catch that.’

Erik glared at him and muttered something under his breath. 

‘Huh?’

‘I said _all_ of that,’ Erik snarled, slamming his fist down on the table. He looked tired and annoyed and frustrated. ‘I just want him to stop being such a _woman_ about it and to forgive me already!’

‘Um,’ Hank actually raised his hand there, frowning at Erik. ‘That’s actually rather disrespectful, both to women _and_ to the Prof-’

Erik snarled at Hank but for once, perhaps due to Dutch courage, Hank didn’t cower away..

‘You know, Bozo here actually has a point,’ Alex said, frowning. ‘You’re not going to get anywhere by being an impatient asshole. Especially when _you_ were in the wrong in the first place.’ He paused suddenly before cautiously adding, ‘You _do_ admit that you were wrong, don’t you?’

‘Of _course_ I do!’ Erik snapped angrily, making the others wince.

‘Good, good, just checking,’ Alex said hurriedly.

Erik glared at him before grudgingly admitting to himself that Alex’s question perhaps hadn’t been put without reason. ‘Sorry,’ he said reluctantly, not looking at Alex, who looked pleasantly surprised at the apology. Erik gestured loosely with his hand. ‘Carry on then.’

‘Right,’ Alex said, taking new courage from Erik’s words and straightening up. ‘Right. So. Where were we?’

‘We were trying to unearth what it is that Eri – er – _Mr. Lehnsherr_ actually wants,’ Hank said immediately, stumbling only when confronted with the matter of how to address Erik.

Erik grunted in affirmation.

‘Right,’ Alex said again, nodding thoughtfully. ‘So let’s figure that out.’ He turned to Erik. ‘You were saying how you wanted Charles to stop being – I mean – that you want him to forgive you.’

‘Yes,’ Erik nodded.

‘So you want him to accept your apology?’

‘Yes.’

‘So first things first: have you actually _made_ an apology?’

Erik glared at him. ‘Of course I have!’ he snapped.

‘Then make it again.’ Alex said immediately, without missing a beat. ‘It never hurts to be on the safe side.’

Erik frowned but grumpily assented to this.

‘And what else do you want?’ Alex continued, leaning forward encouragingly. ‘After having Charles accept your apology? Do you want to be friends again?’

Erik gave a sharp nod. ‘Yes,’ he said haltingly. ‘We – we used to be friends. Before.’

Alex nodded understandingly. ‘I know. But making friends will be much easier once you get him to accept your apology. So that’s what you will have to work on first.’

Erik nodded. He momentarily thought about objecting to being treated like a small and stupid child, but then decided that getting Alex and Hank’s help was better than getting no help at all. Most of the time, at any rate.

He sighed despondently and resigned himself to cooperating with them. They _were_ doing this to help him, after all, no matter how condescending they sounded while doing it.

Alex continued. ‘So you want to be able to apologise, you want to be friends with him again,’ he slowly listed, ticking each item off on his fingers. ‘… Do you also want to be fuck buddies?’

Erik’s head snapped up. ‘Ye – no. No,’ he shook his head firmly. ‘Not – not that.’

Alex frowned. ‘So what, you want to be boyfriend and boyfriend with him?’ he asked sceptically.

Erik lifted his head and growled in warning. 

Alex quickly jumped back, holding his hands in the air. ‘Whoa, cool it man, nobody’s judging, I swear. Honestly man, I’m _glad_.’

Erik regarded him with narrowed eyes. ‘You are?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘Hell yeah!’ Alex said, nodding quickly. ‘Maybe this way you’ll stop being a dick so much of the time. Who knows, you might even crack a smile once in a while.’

Hank was nodding. ‘What Alex means is that he hopes that you will gain emotional maturity by entering into a grown-up relationship based upon more than sexual compatibility,’ he said, taking a sip of his drink. ‘And that in doing so you will no longer be so quick to anger, and will come to find other means of resolving your personal conflicts aside from your fists.’

‘Yeah,’ Alex nodded. ‘Like I said: that you’ll stop being a dick.’ He tilted his head to the side. ‘And – you know what – I kinda think it’s working already.’

‘We’re not _boyfriends_ just _yet_.’ Erik grumbled, almost mortified to be involved in such a conversation.

‘But you _want_ to be,’ Alex said wisely. ‘And that’s half the battle right there.’

They all sat in silence for a few moments.

‘So what should I do?’ Erik asked abruptly, breaking the silence. His tone could almost have been labelled tentative, were it not for the fact that this was _Erik_.

‘You apologise,’ Alex answered immediately.

Erik grimaced. ‘And then?’

‘And then you be _nice_ ,’ Alex said, folding his arms. ‘You talk and you laugh and you make sure he sees that you are a good person; that you aren’t just some bastard who picks up sweet little professors and then sleeps with them and dumps them without a second look back.’

Erik growled low in his throat, but only because he knew that he really _was_ just such a bastard, and he already _had_ done all those things.

‘And then?’ he asked grudgingly, forcing himself to speak.

‘Then?’ Alex shrugged. ‘Then you wait and hope and wish and pray that he begins to honestly see you as a friend and begins to trust you. _Then_ you can try and – I don’t know – _woo_ him or something.’

Erik’s expression was the definition of discontent. ‘That’s a great plan, if I want to be _ninety_ by the time it’s done,’ he said sarcastically.

‘If I may say something?’ Hank asked hesitantly. 

Erik and Alex both turned to look at him. 

Hank swallowed and faced Erik. ‘It seems to me that you are looking for some sort of quick fix for this,’ he said quietly. ‘Some sort of short cut. I am sorry to say this but, if that is the case, then I don’t think that you will succeed.’

Erik’s face darkened. ‘Excuse me?’ his voice was low.

Hank soldiered on resolutely. ‘I don’t think that there is an easy way out for this,’ he said. ‘There’s no shortcut for friendship – it has to develop by itself. There’s no easy way out, no scientific formula, no equation … believe me, I’ve tried.’ He glanced away for a moment. 

Neither Alex nor Erik said anything. Even Erik wasn’t enough of a bastard to say something upsetting to Hank, not when the boy was being so earnest. 

‘I don’t think that the Professor would like that, anyway,’ Hank continued after a minute. ‘He is always saying in class that internet search engines can only get you so far – that the only way that you will really learn is by doing the work and figuring out how to get there, not by flicking over to look at the answers at the end of the book.’

‘He’s right you know,’ Alex said gently when Erik didn’t respond. ‘There’s no quick and easy answer to this. You need to work at it slowly, Erik. Say you’re sorry, _then_ makes friends, _then_ make a move. That’s the only way it’s going to work.’

Erik gritted his teeth and seemed to struggle with himself. ‘I don’t know if I can wait that long,’ he said at last, the blunt honesty apparent in his voice. ‘I – I’m sure you know that I’m not the most patient of people at the best of times. I just – I honestly do _like_ him.’ He looked almost baffled as he said it, as if he couldn’t believe it himself. ‘And even when he makes it clear that he wants nothing to do with me, even if he hates the sight of me … I just can’t give up. I _won’t_ give up. I can’t let him continue to think of me in that way because of that one stupid night. I just – I have to keep trying.’

There was silence.

‘That’s – actually quite sweet, in a way,’ Alex said, blinking bemusedly. ‘When you consider that this is _Erik_ we’re talking about. Otherwise it might sound a little bit like something a stalker-in-training would say.’

Erik huffed slightly, but it was easy to tell that he was amused. 

‘All you can do is try,’ Hank said timidly, trying to be encouraging. Erik nodded at him, knowing full well that he didn’t deserve Hank’s support. 

‘I’ll try,’ he agreed. ‘But I can’t say that I’ll be patient. Even you know me too well to expect that from me.’

Hank mumbled something into his drink that was most likely an agreement.

The three of them settled into something akin to a comfortable silence after that, occasionally throwing out suggestions on what Erik’s next move should be – suggestions that got steadily more and more ludicrous in proportion to the amount of alcohol that they consumed. It was when Alex made the ridiculous suggestion of Erik getting down on one knee and proposing that Erik decided that the night had gone on long enough and that it was about time that they left. 

He, Alex and Hank cleared away their table and wiped it down, although it must be said that Hank was more of a hindrance than a help at this point of the night, hanging tipsily off Alex’s shoulder and muttering something about needing to restock his supply of potassium permanganate post-haste. It was probably because he was drunk, but there was also a chance that it was just Hank being – well, Hank. 

Erik rolled his eyes and picked up his keys to undertake a final check of the premises. Alex stumbled over to him and clapped him on the back.

‘Glad we had that talk,’ he said, smiling dopily at Erik, who grunted in reply. ‘See you tomorrow, big guy.’

‘Yeah,’ Erik acknowledged gruffly, inclining his head. Then he glanced at Alex. ‘He going to be a problem?’ he asked, nodding at Hank.

Alex shook his head, wincing a moment later when the movement caught up to him. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘He can just crash at mine. It’s no problem.’

‘Hmm,’ Erik said, considering. Then he narrowed his eyes. ‘I hope you aren’t planning to drive home.’

‘Um …’

Erik growled. ‘Take a taxi,’ he ordered, allowing no protest. ‘Do you need money for one?’

Alex blinked. ‘No, I’m okay. Thanks though, Erik.’

Erik muttered something under his breath.

‘Well, goodnight then,’ Alex said, waving awkwardly while trying to steer Hank along with him. 

Hank seemed to perk up at that and his head shot up, looking around for Erik until he spotted him. ‘Yes, goodnight sir – Mr. Lehnsherr!’

Erik sighed. ‘Goodnight,’ he said tiredly. Then he added, ‘Oh, and Hank?’

Hank paused, causing both him and Alex to lurch alarmingly sideways, before twisting around apprehensively. ‘Y-yes, sir?’

Erik rubbed his forehead, blaming this wholly on the alcohol. ‘Call me Erik,’ he grunted, eyes carefully scrutinising the far end of the room with a deep level of interest.

Hank stared. ‘Oh,’ he said after a moment. ‘Oh. Yes sir. I mean, thank you – Erik.’

Erik nodded. It was probably the alcohol speaking, but the pleased and surprised expression on Hank’s face made the gesture not a little rewarding.

Sighing, Erik consoled himself with the knowledge that tomorrow morning’s hangover would make sure that everything would go back to normal. It wouldn’t do to let Alex and his little friends get _too_ comfortable around him, after all.

Smiling almost in spite of himself, Erik reached out a hand towards the light switch. With one click, the lights of _Genosha_ went out and the bar was empty once more.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, of course, saw Erik back on form as his usual beastly self. The hangover he’d had that morning had indeed helped contribute to his temper just as he’d predicted, and the residual stabbing pain in his skull did nothing to make his loud and talkative customers any more tolerable or his tongue any less sharp. It was really very lucky that Alex wasn’t scheduled to come in till the early evening; he might have otherwise been forced to take back his opinion that Erik was actually growing and maturing as a person.

So it was that Erik found himself stuck dealing with customers and taking stock in the bar backroom for a good portion of the morning with no other company but his own. Thankfully, by the time the evening rolled around he had somehow managed to wrestle his temper down to moderate – if not exactly unshakeable – levels of acceptability. It would, of course, have been a great deal easier to wait and let out all his aggression on Alex as he usually did, but he instead poured his energy into scowling at annoying customers and making unnecessarily aggressive marks in his ledger while in the backroom. He’d like to think that he’d learned _something_ from this whole sleeping-with-Charles-and-then-ditching-him business, after all, and managing one’s temper – as Alex had made sure to tell him repeatedly several times last night – was an integral part of maintaining friendships and relationships … _especially_ , Alex had muttered darkly, when one was looking for some sort of _help_ from said friends.

Erik – who had been drunk and vulnerable at the time – seemed to have absorbed this lesson almost in spite of himself. He had debated long and hard about whether he should be irritated by this but in the end he finally conceded that, as Alex had displayed some small modicum of ingenuity in getting him drunk and all but bludgeoning his consciousness with the idea of _friendship_ , he could maybe – just _maybe_ – give the boy a little credit and not make his life miserable for once.

Besides, Alex hadn’t been wrong: Erik really _did_ need help.

‘I need to see Charles again,’ was the first thing that he said when both Alex and Hank finally showed their faces that evening. Erik wasn’t entirely sure what Hank was doing there but he didn’t begrudge him his presence – he would rather shoot himself in the foot with a rusty nail-gun than say it out loud but it was entirely possible that he had perhaps come to find Hank almost slightly … tolerable. Plus, there was the fact that he was also really quite necessary to Erik’s plan. ‘I need to know how and where to run into him without making it _look_ like I’ve purposefully run into him, or that I’ve been stalking him.’

Alex sniggered. ‘Good luck with _that_ ,’ he drawled, leaning against the bar and crossing his arms. ‘He’s so not going to believe you. Hell, even _I_ don’t believe you.’ He ignored the dark look Erik sent his way and smirked at him instead. ‘On the bright side, though, if you ever decide to give up the day job then you’ve already got a budding career as a stalker waiting for you …’

Erik did not look impressed. ‘Actually,’ he said flatly, mirroring Alex’s pose by crossing his own arms across his chest, ‘if you’d care to check your facts you’d realise that it’s _Hank_ that’s been doing the stalking.’

Hank let out a noise like a squeak. ‘But you _made_ me!’ he protested, his eyes going wide. ‘I didn’t want to do it! It’s not like I actually _want_ to stalk the professor! I _don’t_!’ he insisted as both Alex and Erik raised identical eyebrows at him. 

‘If you say so,’ Alex scoffed. He turned his attention back to Erik. ‘Can’t you just run into him while shopping again? It’s not as if it doesn’t happen to – you know – _regular_ people.’

Erik shook his head firmly. ‘No, I’ve already done that once – Charles wouldn’t believe that it was a coincidence if it happened again. Besides,’ he added with a sardonic twist of his lips. ‘Believe me when I say that we shop in quite _different_ places, Charles and I.’

Hank nodded in apparent agreement of the assessment, running his eyes discreetly over Erik and mentally comparing it to the image of his neat, cardigan-wearing, organic-vegetable-eating Professor. Erik apparently didn’t come off very well in the comparison, for Hank wrinkled his nose and quickly shook his head. 

Alex gave a small shrug. ‘Maybe you should just go to _Hellfire_ ,’ he suggested. ‘It’s Friday tomorrow, he’s bound to be there.’

Erik’s reaction, while not completely unexpected, was nonetheless surprisingly vicious, as evidenced by the sudden tightening of his muscles and the abrupt narrowing of his eyes. ‘No!’ he snarled, looking unreasonably furious at the suggestion. At the sight of the others’ startled expressions he tried to rein his temper in, but his eyes still flashed angrily. ‘Out of the question,’ he said in a steadier voice, his tone firm and implacable. ‘My own mother couldn’t make me go there, let alone anyone else.’

‘Not even Charles?’ Alex asked cautiously, looking torn between curiosity and apprehension.

‘Not even Charles,’ Erik answered grimly, his hands tightening into fists. ‘ _Nothing_ could make me set foot in that rotten cesspit of filth and vulgarity. I would rather endure a lifetime of Cassidy’s yowling on Karaoke Thursdays than go anywhere _near_ that place. No, Alex-’ he glared when Alex opened his mouth and he shook his head. ‘I don’t want to hear it. I won’t say anything more on the subject. I would advise you not to bring it up again.’

Alex shrugged, apparently unconcerned. ‘Suit yourself then,’ he said with an air of carelessness. The moment Erik’s eyes turned away, however, he let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped a little.

Hank was looking on in curiosity but, whatever breakthroughs had been made regarding his self-confidence the night before, he still didn’t dare to enquire any further into Erik’s dislike of the _Hellfire_ club, his acute desire to pry notwithstanding. He had _heard_ about what happened to overly-inquisitive felines, after all, and he was in no rush to join that particular club any time soon.

Unfortunately, it appeared that the suggestion of the _Hellfire_ club had brought Erik’s patience with the discussion to a swift end. ‘I can’t use the supermarket and I _won’t_ go to _Hellfire_ ,’ he said firmly, shaking his head with steely resolve. ‘Hank will just have to find another place for me to meet Charles.’

Hank’s eyes widened and he stared at Erik in distress. ‘Oh – but!’ he tried to protest, his voice fading as he saw the look of forced patience on Erik’s face.

‘It won’t be hard, you’ve done it before,’ Erik said calmly, in what he probably thought was a soothing tone.

‘And I barely avoided telling the Professor everything right then and there!’ Hank sputtered, looking wild-eyed.

‘Then don’t freaking talk to him!’ Alex said immediately, rolling his eyes.

Hank simply goggled at him. ‘What do you mean?’

Erik sighed. ‘Does Charles have a journal or diary of some sort – some kind of day planner?’ he asked patiently.

Hank slowly nodded his head.

‘Well then,’ Erik said, raising an eyebrow. ‘All you have to do is take a look in it – maybe take a few notes or pictures of any appointments written in there – and then hand them to me. It’s literally as simple as that. Charles won’t suspect a thing.’

Alex was nodding encouragingly. ‘I think it’s a good idea,’ he said, sounding almost inappropriately enthusiastic about the plan.

Erik gave him a nod and then turned to stare Hank straight in the eye. ‘You know what you have to do, Hank,’ he said seriously.

‘Yeah, go on Hank, take one for the team,’ Alex cheerfully egged him on.

Hank gave Alex a thoroughly reproachful look, the betrayal clear in his eyes. ‘Fine,’ he huffed before suddenly narrowing his eyes. ‘But – and I mean it! – this is the _last time_!’

Both Alex and Erik were suitably impressed by the firmness and determination in Hank’s voice and so they very gallantly agreed to this, if only so they didn’t ruin the effect of Hank’s unexpected attempt at authority.

‘All right then,’ Erik got up and wiped his hands with a cloth. ‘It’s a plan. Hank – you know what you have to do. Alex – you make sure he actually _does_ it.’ He straightened up to his full height. ‘Now, if you will both excuse me, I’ve got a line of idiots hovering in front of my bar waiting for me to get them drunk. Gentlemen,’ he nodded at them brusquely and made his way over to the front of the bar, leaving Hank and Alex alone.

‘So,’ Hank said a few moments after Erik had left them, unable to contain himself for much longer. ‘What’s the deal with Erik and _Hellfire_? I mean, why does he hate them so much?’

Alex shrugged and deliberately avoided Hank’s eyes.

‘I mean, is it personal?’ Hank persevered, all thoughts of cats and their unfortunate demises obviously having disappeared from his head. ‘Cause it definitely _looked_ personal. Or was that just – you know – Erik being _Erik_?’

Alex was forced to smile at that. ‘It could just be Erik,’ he admitted. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him. He doesn’t like flashy places like that with super-loud music and with too many young people – particularly _students_ , Erik _hates_ students.’ He turned to Hank and shrugged. ‘Sorry Hank.’

Hank waved him off and instead leaned closer. ‘But _is_ it, though?’ he asked, eyes wide and curious. ‘ _Is_ that all it is?’

Alex hesitated for a moment before glancing over at Erik. He was quite some way away now, busy serving customers their drinks, his attention fully focused on the job at hand. And while the bar was never overly noisy or rowdy, the general talk and chatter of the place blanketed private conversations quite nicely. Reassured, Alex turned back to Hank.

‘You were saying about Erik and _Hellfire_?’ Hank urged him on eagerly.

Alex took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘As I was saying – it _could_ just be Erik being Erik,’ he shrugged, casual. ‘Or,’ he paused and threw Hank a sideways look. ‘ _Perhaps_ – and you didn’t hear this from me, mind – _perhaps_ he used to work there once upon a time, _way_ back before it became the place you see today. Maybe he poured all of his work and time and money into it … only to find that his business partner had conveniently forgotten to include his name on the deed and that, when Erik tried to fight this, he found that he had no claim because his partner hadn’t actually revealed Erik’s existence to anyone – not in any legal document, not in any casual conversation, nothing. It was like he’d never had anything to do with the club. Shaw – that was the name of the guy, by the way, Erik’s bastard of a business partner – he tried to pay Erik off – very generously, I heard – but Erik refused. Well, at least at first. Said it was the principle of the thing, that _Hellfire_ was his as much as anyone’s – perhaps even _more_ than it was Shaw’s. Shaw eventually wore him down though. Paid Erik off as if he was some sort of handyman he had employed to fix up the place.’

‘Wow,’ Hank’s eyes were round. ‘No wonder he’s so … you know.’

‘Yeah,’ Alex agreed, grimacing. ‘He hasn’t had the easiest life, Erik.’ He then gave Hank a small smirk. ‘Don’t worry, though. The story has a happy ending … sorta. See, _Hellfire_ used to be a low-key sort of bar just like this one – only not as nice, ‘cause Shaw had piss-poor taste. So Erik, taking the money Shaw paid him off with, bought _this_ place here – purposely ‘cause it was near to _Hellfire_. Shaw had no clue, but Erik had a trick or two up his sleeve and _Genosha_ was up and running in record time, with better distributors and even better product – he imports his beer from Germany, you know?’ Alex said with a fierce sort of vicarious pride. ‘It’s good stuff, better than most of the crap you get around here. Anyway, he slowly began poaching customers from _Hellfire_ and within a year, had run it and Shaw into the ground. Shaw was forced to sell the place and he later declared bankruptcy and then made a run for it. Turns out he wasn’t the most honest of guys to deal with, and that he’d done a bunch of under-the-table deals with a load of unsavoury characters – Russians on one side, Americans on the other. So he did the most sensible thing he could and upped and legged it out of here. Good riddance, if you ask me.’

‘And _Hellfire_?’ Hank asked eagerly. 

Alex shrugged. ‘Well, not long after, some chick came sniffing around and then eventually bought the place. Did it up all fancy and turned it into a club rather than just a bar. And here it is today. Erik still can’t stand the place, though. He’d like nothing better than to see it burnt down to the ground.’

‘Better not give him any ideas,’ Hank muttered, causing Alex to let out a snort of laughter.

‘It’s been a while and he’s not done anything yet,’ he smiled reassuringly. ‘But you’re right, it’s best not to tempt fate. Especially with Charles in the equation.’

‘I’m still surprised that the Professor didn’t know any better than to take up with Erik,’ Hank said with a frown, before hurriedly adding, ‘Not that Erik’s not … er …’

‘Yeah,’ Alex said, wincing. ‘Er … that one’s maybe kinda _my_ fault …’

Hank looked at him in curiosity and so Alex proceeded to explain his part in the bet and everything that had happened leading up to it. Hank did not look at all pleased when Alex had finished. 

‘You bet on the Professor!’ he accused, staring at Alex in a way that made him feel more ashamed than ever.

Alex wriggled miserably in his seat. ‘I know,’ he admitted, hanging his head. ‘But I didn’t know the Prof back then and this was _Erik_ and I was _desperate_ …’

He turned pleading, soulful eyes on Hank, who held his gaze sternly for a whole minute before finally relenting, reluctantly acknowledging that if it had been _him_ he probably would have done anything to calm Erik down – although, he also pointedly added, he didn’t think that throwing a beloved professor to the wolves would have _ever_ entered his mind.

‘I guess not,’ Alex agreed with a rueful twist of his lips. ‘Sometimes I think you’re just too nice, Hank. You and Charles both.’

‘Well, with people like you and Erik about, there needs to be _someone_ to balance out all the misery and the scowling,’ Hank said with a smile, before rushing to add, ‘Not that we’re at _all_ like Erik and the Professor, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Alex agreed, hiding a smile. Then he reached out and snagged a bottle from behind the bar. ‘Beer?’ he asked.

Hank inclined his head. ‘Please,’ he nodded, and accepted the drink.

*****

Two days later, Hank showed up once more, glancing surreptitiously about him as if he suspected that ninjas were going to detach themselves from the shadows and take him down before he was able to complete his mission.

‘Here,’ he gabbled, setting down his overly large rucksack and reaching in to pull out a bunch of papers. ‘I managed to photocopy the Professor’s plans for the entire month, and the next one too. Just in case.’

Erik nodded and muttered his thanks, already reaching forward to peruse the papers, his eyes focused solely on the words in front of him. ‘ _Lunch with Moira_ ,’ he read, making a face, before continuing to read. ‘ _Papers on genome structure due in_ – that’s no help … _Dentist_ – dentist?’ He glanced up at Alex and Hank hopefully. ‘Do you think-?’

‘No,’ Alex was shaking his head firmly. ‘Dude, no matter what planet you exist in, dentists are _not_ romantic and never will be.’

‘I don’t think the Professor would appreciate being waylaid at the dentist,’ Hank agreed, also shaking his head.

Sighing, Erik went back to his notes. ‘ _Telephone Raven, get tickets to the ballet in Paris_ – who’s Raven?’ Erik demanded with a spike of irritation and flat-out hostility, scowling at this unknown threat to his as of yet non-existent relationship.

To everyone’s surprise, it was Hank who answered this one. Even more surprisingly, he was blushing bright red as he said it. ‘Raven’s the Professor’s sister,’ he muttered, looking down at the floor. ‘She’s in Paris, studying art. She likes ballet,’ he added lamely, shrugging.

Both Erik and Alex gave Hank an assessing look but they said nothing when he met their gazes in something almost like a challenge. Alex scowled and turned away, while Erik shrugged, quickly losing interest in the subject now that he was sure that this ‘Raven’ person was no longer a threat.

‘Right,’ Erik redirected his attention back to the journal pages. ‘Let me see, _Change lesson plan_ – no … Wait!’ His tone changed and he leaned forward. ‘Here – _Dinner at Chez Vincent, 8pm_ – dinner! I could meet him for dinner!’

Alex and Hank exchanged slightly anxious looks.

‘Erik,’ Alex said cautiously. ‘You _do_ know that Charles isn’t having dinner with _you_ , right?’

Erik glared at him. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said stiffly. ‘I’m not an _imbecile_. I merely plan on meeting him there and say that I’m waiting for someone else.’

Hank shuffled his feet. ‘Don’t you think the Professor might be doing the same?’ he asked, somewhat timidly.

Erik frowned. ‘I’m not quite sure what-’ he started.

‘What Hank means to say,’ Alex interrupted, speaking in a low, careful voice. ‘Is that dinner at 8pm at _Chez Vincent_ … well, it sounds an awful lot like the Prof is on a _date_.’

Erik’s spine stiffened. He looked from Alex to Hank, who both had apologetic expressions on their faces. Then he looked down at the journal. His eyes narrowed.

‘I _will_ meet him at _Chez Vincent_ ,’ he said resolutely, his eyes flaring with determination even as Hank and Alex winced. ‘You don’t know that it _is_ a date. It might be a business meeting. Or,’ he continued, gaining enthusiasm, ‘Even if it _is_ a date, then I’ll have all the more reason to be there. Charles and his date might not get on, or the date might end early. Maybe his date won’t even show up and Charles will need someone to pinch-hit for him. Or maybe the guy will try to put the moves on him, and Charles will need someone to defend his honour-’

‘Yeah, because you are _such_ an expert at that,’ Alex said sarcastically, wincing with each word that came out of Erik’s mouth.

Erik paused mid-speech and glared at him, clearly not in the mood to be reminded of his own personal shortcomings.

Alex’s expression fell. ‘I thought you didn’t want to be a _stalker_ ,’ he whined, sounding almost pitiful. ‘All that stuff you said just now sounded like some sort of weird stalker fantasy and it’s kinda _creepy_ , man. Me and Hank _really_ don’t need to know about your crazy little stalker fantasies.’

Hank, however, was still focused on the big picture. ‘You aren’t going to ruin the Professor’s dinner, are you?’ he asked worriedly, biting his lower lip in agitation. He looked like he was seriously regretting having given Erik the journal pages. Or, at least, for having done so without scanning and editing the pages beforehand.

Erik ignored them both. ‘Look,’ he said, flicking the pages first backwards and then forwards. ‘There aren’t any other notations made anywhere else suggesting any other dates. That means that the one at _Chez Vincent_ is a _first_ date.’

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘Way to go, Columbo,’ he groused, not wanting to hear anything more about what he was sure was a train-wreck waiting to happen. ‘Maybe instead of being a stalker you should be a fucking _detective_.’

Erik ignored him and continued talking. ‘That means that there is a very good chance that things could stop before they even get started,’ he said determinedly, eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Charles probably doesn’t even know this person very well – that means he is still getting to know him, still finding out what he is like, what he is capable of. I should _definitely_ be there when they meet, just in case.’

Alex groaned. ‘That is the stupidest logic ever,’ he moaned, hiding his face with his hands. ‘Hank, tell him that that is the stupidest logic ever.’

‘Well the assumption that it is a first date isn’t too bad,’ Hank admitted, but cowered slightly when Alex glared at him. ‘But the “you-being-there” bit wasn’t so much logical as it was … well, _stalkerish_ ,’ he told Erik apologetically.

Erik grunted. ‘I don’t care,’ he said firmly, glaring down at the small hand-written appointment on the page in front of him. ‘Charles might need me, and I am going to be there. Don’t worry,’ he tried to assure Alex and Hank upon seeing their anxious faces. ‘It will be all right. What’s the worst that could happen?’

Alex and Hank exchanged a single weighted, dread-filled glance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the 'Erik is a dick' warning :)

It was with great trepidation that Erik entered _Chez Vincent_ a few nights later, his teeth gritted firmly and his posture slightly stiffer than was usual. Despite the fact that he knew that he was perfectly within his rights to be there he found himself unusually tense, and he held his breath as he was ushered towards his table for two, barely recollecting himself enough to nod sharply to the waiter as he was seated. 

Angling his seat slightly to the left, Erik cast a wary look around at the restaurant floor. He couldn’t help feeling like an impostor here, even dressed to the nines as he was. It didn’t help that he had placed a reservation for two, even though he was to be on his own for the evening. He had considered requesting a table for one, but in the end he’d decided that it would be best to appear as if he was awaiting a companion. He knew that his dining alone would make him somewhat conspicuous as a consequence, but his stubborn nature did not allow him to buckle under what would undoubtedly be a hateful ordeal, being subject to the pitying looks and speculations of his waiter and fellow diners. 

With this in mind, he scowled to himself and brusquely ordered a large bottle of wine the moment that the sommelier arrived. The man was undoubtedly impressed with both Erik’s scowl as well as his knowledge of wine, for he cast an admiring look at Erik before turning and scurrying away from the table as quickly as he could. Erik watched him flee and allowed himself a grunt of amusement. He wondered what the man would say if he found out that Erik was a humble bartender and not the multi-millionaire wine-aficionado that he had undoubtedly taken Erik to be.

Erik deliberately waited until the sommelier had returned with his drink before glancing at his watch. His reservation had been made for half past seven, half an hour before Charles’s date. He had even slipped the host a not-all-that-small incentive to ensure that he was placed at the table with the best vantage point of the entire restaurant; no doubt the man now thought that Erik was some sort of spy, a conjecture supported by the fact that Erik’s forbidding expression made him look not entirely dissimilar to a serial killer (at least, that was what Alex always said). Certainly, the speculation would grow when Erik’s supposed contact for the evening failed to show. 

Still, a millionaire and a real-life James Bond were hardly the worst things to be compared to, Erik thought idly. Besides, the assumptions weren’t all that far off – Erik _was_ something of a wine expert, and he _was_ here to spy. It was merely the … incidental details that were wrong.

He sat there for a time, slowly sipping his drink and tiredly fending off the waiter who kept appearing at various intervals to ask him whether he had decided on a starter yet. At ten minutes to eight, Erik finally gave in and ordered a salad of some sort just to get some peace and quiet. He was very glad to have rid himself of the interruption, however, when, five minutes later, Charles walked in.

Erik went entirely still as his eyes fell on the other man and then refused to move away. Charles always looked remarkably handsome whenever Erik saw him – which had been, up to only recently, solely on Friday nights at the pub. He had looked very much the same when Erik had encountered him at the university and at that other time at the supermarket. Now though … 

Erik took a deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart. Charles was no longer dressed in his rumpled tweeds or sporting his usual mussed hair. Instead, he wore a smart black dinner jacket and well-fitting, tailored trousers, along with a crisp white shirt with an open collar that displayed his neck in all of its tempting, tantalising glory. He looked like … like he _belonged_. In a posh restaurant full of elegant, well-to-do people, Charles _fitted in_. 

Erik, making an effort not to glance down at himself, felt more out of place than ever. With a grimace, he swallowed down another sip of his drink and straightened his shoulders before turning back to the restaurant floor. It was only then, with his eyes no longer stuck close to Charles’s form, that he realised that Charles was not alone. 

His spine immediately stiffened and his eyes narrowed dangerously. A waiter, who had been about to come forward to offer to top up Erik’s drink caught sight of his expression and immediately changed direction, offering a drink to a sweet old lady instead. 

Erik watched, his fists clenched tight, as the man next to Charles smiled, his shoulder brushing against Charles’s as they were guided to their seats. He was terribly handsome – even Erik had to admit that – with fine blond hair and chiselled good looks. His neat, tailored suit did nothing to hide the fact that he was a man in the prime of health, blessed with strength and vigour. Even worse, his expression was one of gentleness and attentiveness – one could tell just by looking at him that he was a kind and genuinely good person. 

Erik instantly hated him.

His temper did not improve in the least when the man moved swiftly around the table and pulled the chair out, holding it out for Charles, who looked both surprised and gratified by the motion. Erik couldn’t help but remember his own one dinner with Charles which had consisted of a rushed pizza delivery and one messily and hastily eaten pizza that had quickly been interrupted by the urgent need to get naked as soon as was possible. 

Erik swallowed as he remembered it now, and scowled down at his drink. Of _course_ Charles would prefer to go to some fancy, expensive restaurant where the meals were served on something more substantial than cheap cardboard. Of _course_ he would like to be wooed. 

It wasn’t as if Erik was _incapable_ of any of that. He was _here_ , after all. Maybe not _with_ Charles – maybe not with _anybody_ – but he was here at a fancy restaurant with obscenely priced items on the menu and stuck up, snooty waiters all in the name of romance, so he figured he deserved _some_ credit. He hadn’t even taken Magda to a proper, classy restaurant, after all, and _she_ had been the closest that Erik had ever come to a proper, stable relationship. Not that _she’d_ ever appreciated it.

He watched the couple – conveniently placed in his direct line of sight – as they settled down, glancing up at them through his eyelashes as he pretended to study the menu in front of him for main courses. Charles was situated in such a way so as to allow Erik to read his every movement and expression; his date was more awkwardly placed, seated so that Erik was only able to see the back of his large, blond head. Erik greatly preferred it that way – watching Charles was never an ordeal – but wished that he could see at least a little of the man’s face. How was he supposed to evaluate his character and his intentions when all he could see was the back of his stupidly-handsome head?

Erik scowled in irritation, his eyes never leaving the other two diners. Charles and his date had their heads bent towards each other over the table, Charles wearing a warm smile as he laughed at something the other man said. Erik gritted his teeth and forced himself to unclench the hand that he had unconsciously wrapped around a fork, which was now bending under the force of his ire. He stiffly peeled his fingers away and placed the fork back down on the tablecloth, a little more battered and curved in a way that it hadn’t been before he had laid hands on it.

He let out a mental sigh of relief when a waiter approached Charles’s table, causing the two to move apart. Erik concentrated on the furrow of Charles’s brow as he regarded the menu, idly wondering what it would be like to press his fingertips to the soft skin there and smooth away the lines. The next instant he recollected himself and, grimacing at having even _considered_ something so hopelessly mushy, took a long, deep draught of his drink and went back to scowling at his menu.

A few more minutes went by with Erik silently observing the other table. He had almost completely forgotten that he was in a restaurant – which is to say, in a _public setting_ – and while his face might have been hidden from Charles due to Erik’s judicious use of his menu, the waiters often threw him extremely nervous glances as they walked past. Eventually, one got up the nerve to approach him and ask if he needed anything, but Erik simply glared and stated that he needed more time to make his decision. While it is debatable as to whether the waiter believed him or not, the glare that Erik gave him made sure that he was not approached again.

Unfortunately, Erik had forgotten that while he had not ordered a main course, he had already ordered a starter. As he watched Charles’s table, he saw Charles look up, his face brightening momentarily as he looked over his date’s shoulder. Casting a stealthy glance to see what had caught Charles’s attention, Erik frowned when he saw that the object of his focus was simply an ordinary waiter making his way through the tables. Thinking vaguely that Charles was probably feeling hungry, Erik watched as the waiter came closer, Charles’s eyes following his movement as if in hopes that it was his table’s order that was arriving. Erik, following his gaze, saw the waiter approach nearer and nearer … and then suddenly he was at Erik’s table, carefully placing Erik’s salad down in front of him.

Erik saw it happen as if it was in slow motion: Charles’s eyes, which had been lighted hopefully on the waiter, dimmed slightly as he saw him approach another table … and then his gaze slid automatically from the waiter down to the person he was serving – to _Erik_ , who had been forced to move his menu-shield out of the way to allow the waiter to set down the salad. Erik saw the second that Charles recognised him: the way the surprise, bafflement, incredulity, and finally, _annoyance_ flared across Charles’s expressive face in the flash of a second before he managed to get a grip on himself and then, in the next moment, settle his face into a mask of smooth blankness, revealing nothing.

Erik, on the other hand, was in the middle of a crisis. Should he run? But no – everyone would think that he was running off without paying the bill. Should he pretend that he hadn’t seen Charles? Well – that would be pretty difficult seeing as their eyes had met for that one, awful second when the waiter had moved out of the way. Should he wave? Nod at him?

Erik’s thought process nearly disintegrated when, after leaning forward and saying something with a sweet smile to his date, Charles got up from his chair, smiled once more at his friend, and then promptly turned and stalked towards Erik, his expression ever so slightly miffed.

Erik barely had the chance to swallow a fortifying glass of wine before Charles arrived at his table.

‘Erik,’ Charles said in what would have actually been quite a pleasant tone of voice if his expression hadn’t been so tight. ‘What a coincidence, seeing you here.’

Erik managed to find his voice at the last minute. ‘Yes,’ he said, clearing his throat surreptitiously. ‘Yes it is, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes, quite. Are you waiting for someone?’ Charles asked, still in that same pleasant tone. Erik was starting to feel wary of it. 

‘Er-’ Erik took a fraction of a second to make up his mind. ‘Yes. That is to say, I _was_ waiting for someone. Unfortunately, they cancelled.’

‘How unfortunate for you,’ Charles said, without the faintest whiff of sympathy. ‘A date, was it?’

Erik gritted his teeth. ‘No, actually,’ he said, sitting up and raising his chin almost challengingly. ‘It was a business meeting. And yourself?’ he asked, almost before he could stop himself. ‘Are you here for business or pleasure?’

Charles finally dropped the overly-polite mask he had been wearing and frowned. ‘It’s pleasure,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m here on a date.’

‘Oh,’ Erik felt something inside him clench to have his suspicions confirmed, even though he had been aware of the likelihood all along. He shook this feeling off, suddenly feeling something reckless stir up inside him. ‘Oh,’ he said again, rising to his feet. ‘Then please, by all means, allow me to introduce myself.’

Charles’s eyes had gone wide, and clearly there was something in Erik’s eyes that unnerved him, for he immediately reached out and grabbed Erik’s arm, tugging him close, hissing, ‘Don’t you _dare_!’

Erik looked at him, attempting an innocent expression but the strained grin he was sporting clearly detracted from the overall effect. ‘Why?’ he asked airily. ‘Afraid I will say something to scare him off?’

Charles’s eyes clouded over and he gripped Erik’s arm more firmly. ‘Right,’ he said, puffing himself up to his full height – which, truth be told, wasn’t all that high. ‘You and I are going to step out of the restaurant for a minute. Right now.’

‘But I haven’t paid for my dinner yet,’ Erik protested, even though he really was quite curious to see what it was that Charles wanted to say to him. Usually, when he was asked to step outside by another man, it generally resulted in either one or the other of them sporting bruises and cuts and general bad tempers for the rest of the day. Somehow, though, Erik didn’t think that _that_ was what was going to happen now.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Charles replied, his voice clipped. ‘I know the manager here. I will make sure it’s taken care of.’

At Erik’s bemused nod, Charles immediately summoned one of the staff, who hurried over hastily and listened with obsequious attention while Charles said something to him. After a hurried conversation, the man agreed and suddenly Erik was outside, coat in his hand, being pulled a little way away by Charles’s surprisingly strong hold upon his arm. 

The first thing that Charles said was something that Erik had heard countless times from a variety of girlfriends, boyfriends, counsellors, customers, and – most notably and repeatedly – Alex on a number of occasions:

‘What is _wrong_ with you?’

Erik blinked but said nothing. It was his usual response to that question. Well – that and a menacing, toothy grin that tended to scare off the questioner before they went any further, but for some reason Erik didn’t feel that this response would be appropriate on this occasion.

‘Tell me the truth,’ Charles was saying, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed in a manner that should really not be as attractive as Erik was finding it. ‘Did you _really_ have a meeting at the restaurant this evening?’

Erik mentally debated lying for a moment. His newly-acquired, previously-underused conscience made the decision for him. ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I didn’t.’

Charles was watching him closely. ‘I see,’ he said, his expression inscrutable. ‘So you were here for-’ Erik’s flickering expression confirmed Charles’s suspicions. He sighed. ‘Right. And the reason you did this was …?’

Erik grimaced and looked down at his feet. His silence seemed to be enough of an answer for Charles who looked torn between amusement and disbelief. 

‘Ah,’ he said awkwardly. ‘And – may I ask – what exactly did you hope to achieve by this?’

Erik could answer this one. ‘I just wanted to speak to you,’ he said, his tone unexpectedly earnest. ‘I didn’t mean to bother you, I promise.’

Charles threw him a wry glance. ‘You do realise that what you are doing can technically be described as stalking, right?’ he asked, raising his eyebrow. ‘And I hate to be the one to inform you of this, but stalking is most _definitely_ classified as a bother.’

Erik scowled. ‘I am _not_ a stalker,’ he growled, feeling rather upset and misunderstood by the world at large. Why did no one ever seem to believe that his intentions were _pure_ and _un-stalkery_?

Charles gave him a look that spoke volumes about just how much he believed Erik’s words. ‘If you say so,’ he said, shrugging. He shivered then and glanced back at the restaurant. He had left his jacket behind at the table and so the only thing he was wearing was a thin white shirt that, however attractive it might have been, did little to protect him from the elements. 

Erik found his eyes sliding down the front of the shirt but quickly snapped himself out of it. He was sure that Charles wouldn’t appreciate being ogled, no matter how much Erik himself would have enjoyed it. Sighing, he did the gentlemanly thing. ‘Would you like my coat?’ he offered politely.

Charles glanced up at him in surprise. ‘Oh,’ he said after a moment. ‘No. No thank you. You need it. Besides, I don’t plan to stay out here long.’

Erik frowned but retracted the offered coat. 

‘Now, I believe you had something that you wanted to say to me?’ Charles asked, folding his arms around his chest and hunching his shoulders. It was clear that he was eager to get back to the warmth of the restaurant. 

Erik blinked and quickly cleared his head. ‘Yes,’ he said, after a pause. ‘Yes, I did want to speak to you. I wanted to – Charles, I want us to be friends.’

Charles stared at him before letting out a raw little chuckle. ‘You know, friends don’t usually _stalk_ each other,’ he said dryly, giving Erik a pointed look. His tone was filled with an undercurrent of humour, however, which allowed Erik to relax slightly, even though he felt rather pained at having the stalker issue brought up again. ‘I think maybe someone had better coach you on the _proper_ avenues of friendship, since you don’t seem to have quite got the hang of it yet.’

‘Are you offering?’ Erik asked hopefully, clutching at the chance with both hands. At Charles’s doubtful expression he carried on, throwing his pride to the winds. ‘I would like that. I really would. I know that I can be …’ he searched for the appropriate word, ‘… _difficult_ at times, but I would like to change that. I don’t _mean_ to be the way I am – I’m just …’ he hesitated, ‘not very good with … people,’ he finished lamely.

Charles’s expression softened at that but there was a knowing look in his eye that showed that he was fully aware of what Erik was doing. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,’ he remarked tartly, before grimacing and looking away for a long moment. When he finally looked back again, his expression was oddly vulnerable. ‘Can’t-’ he swallowed, all humour gone from his voice. ‘Can’t you just … forget about me?’ he asked, his tone ever so slightly pleading.

Erik’s stomach took a dive and he swallowed against the dryness in his throat. ‘No,’ he said honestly, his voice rough, not moving his gaze away from Charles. ‘No, I really don’t think I can.’

Charles grimaced at that, shutting his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, there was a resigned look in his eyes. ‘Very well then,’ he sighed, looking tired. ‘You win. Let us be friends, then.’

Erik’s head jerked up. ‘You mean it?’ he asked, fingers digging tightly into his coat.

Charles gave him a wan smile. ‘Yes,’ he said weakly, before shaking himself and sending Erik a wry look. ‘I honestly believe that I would agree to almost anything to get you to stop stalking me. Really, Erik, it is beginning to get quite ridiculous.’

Erik actually laughed at that, happy for what seemed to be the first time in ages. For the first time since the night that he had slept with Charles things seemed to be going back to normal. 

When Charles returned his smile, however, he was suddenly seized by the desire to prolong their meeting and prevent their little reconciliation from coming to an end. ‘Hey,’ he said quickly. ‘Why don’t we … Do you maybe want to go somewhere?’

Charles blinked and Erik could tell that he didn’t fully understand. ‘Go somewhere?’ he asked, frowning – and was that a hint of trepidation in his voice?

‘Yes,’ Erik said recklessly. ‘We could go have a drink … maybe take a walk …?’ Erik wracked his brains for more romantic suggestions. He knew that he shouldn’t push his luck – that Alex and Hank had deliberately warned him not to – but he couldn’t help himself. He had to try. ‘What do you say?’

‘What, _now_?’ Charles seemed almost scandalised at the suggestion.

‘Yes, _now_ ,’ Erik said, taking a step forward. ‘It’s the perfect time for it.’

Charles was looking at him with a frown. ‘Erik,’ he said slowly. ‘Erik, I am on a _date_.’

Erik gritted his teeth. As if he could forget. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said with a forced smile. ‘But we both know that you would have a much better time with _me_.’

Charles’s expression went from careful to frosty in the space of a second. ‘Oh?’ he asked, and his tone was dangerous but Erik didn’t heed the warning.

‘Yes,’ he pushed on, rough-shod, eager to do anything that would break up this poor excuse for a date that Charles was on. ‘It will be _fun_ , Charles. _We_ will have fun, you know we will.’

‘And what do you suggest that I tell Steve to explain this abrupt end to our date?’ Charles asked icily.

Erik was beginning to think that maybe he had drunk too much while on an empty stomach, because his brain-to-mouth filter seemed to have disappeared. Or maybe he was just an idiot who could only ever screw things up. Whatever the reason, he knew, even as he spoke, that what he was saying was a bad, bad, idea. ‘Ditch him,’ he said, before he could stop himself. ‘Let’s just go, you and me, right now.’

Charles’s face almost seemed to spasm before that same smooth blankness from earlier overtook it, wiping his face clean of all expression. When he spoke again, his tone was blank and remote, and frostier than the North Pole.

‘No, thank you,’ he said, his eyes hard and directed away from Erik, who couldn’t keep from wincing. ‘That would be a terribly rude thing to do, and I wouldn’t like myself at _all_ if I were the sort of person to do such a thing. Especially since I myself have once been on the receiving end of such behaviour.’ Erik flinched. ‘Besides, I actually _like_ Steve. I would even go so far as to say – not that it’s any business of yours, mind – that I think I might even see him again.’ Charles glanced down at his watch. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I had best be going – we’ve been quite a bit more than five minutes and Steve will be waiting.’

Erik couldn’t stop himself from growling. ‘Oh, we wouldn’t want to keep _Steve_ waiting,’ he sneered childishly.

Charles stiffened. ‘No, we wouldn’t,’ he agreed smoothly after a moment. ‘Although, being the _gentleman_ that he is, he is sure to understand.’

The swipe didn’t pass unnoticed. Erik, gritting his teeth, found that not even his best intentions could quite keep the lid on his temper. ‘He’s not likely to put out, you know?’ he found himself saying meanly. ‘This Steve of yours? He doesn’t look like the type. At least, not on a first date.’

Charles’s froze, his face suddenly expressionless. There was a moment of silence. Then, when he next spoke, it was perfectly clear that he was having quite a great deal of trouble restraining his anger. ‘I know this is hard for you to understand,’ he said, his voice slow and on the barest edge of trembling. ‘But there _are_ other qualities that are important when it comes to meeting people that you like. And,’ here he raised his voice. ‘It just so happens that I actually _like_ Steve. Very much, in fact.’

Erik’s hands clenched into fists and he had to resist the urge to punch something. Even through his rage, however, he couldn’t help feeling something inside his chest crumble in pain and disappointment. This was going completely _wrong_. Why couldn’t he have just followed Alex and Hank’s advice and been happy with Charles’s offer of friendship? Now he had probably ruined everything all over again and Charles would go back to _Steve_ and have nothing more to do with him.

The worst thing was that he knew that he had absolutely no right to feel so hurt and upset. Whatever had happened between him and Charles – whatever _would_ happen between them – was entirely his fault. And that just made things worse.

Anger was the only way to overcome the misery he was feeling at that moment. It was the one way that he had dealt with unhappiness his entire life. It was the only way he _knew_ how to deal with it.

‘Screw Steve!’ he said bitterly, unable to stop the ugly jealously that he was feeling from rearing up. ‘God knows that’s the _only_ way the two of you will screw! I’ve seen you, Charles. I’ve seen you flirting and picking up men and women almost every week for _months_ now, and this _Steve_ of yours isn’t at _all_ what you are looking for. Even _I_ can see he’s not right for you!’

Erik could tell he had struck a nerve, because suddenly Charles was furious, angry in a way that Erik had never seen before.

‘Why?’ Charles snarled. ‘Why isn’t he right for me? Because he won’t “put out” on a _first date_?’

Erik opened his mouth but then snapped it shut. ‘Among other things,’ he growled, which was marginally better a response than the one that had first popped into his mind.

Unfortunately Charles didn’t seem to agree. ‘Well I think you are wrong,’ he said icily. He looked at Erik for a long moment and then his face suddenly dropped and he looked sad. Erik felt something in him despair at the sight: he _hated_ that he couldn’t seem to stop making Charles feel that way. ‘Please don’t fight me on this, Erik,’ Charles said tiredly, shaking his head. ‘I think that I ought to know what I want – what I _need_ – better than you do.’

‘Well, _I’m_ not sure that you do,’ Erik snapped before he could stop himself. Charles might think that he knew best but Erik knew better. ‘We’re _good_ together, Charles. Can you honestly tell me that you don’t feel the same way? That you really think that _Steve_ is a better fit for you than I am? Do you think that he can give you what you need the way that I can? That he’ll _want_ you the way that _I_ want you?’

Charles had gone completely still, looking almost stricken, and for a minute Erik thought that he was just going to turn and leave without saying another word. However, after a second, Charles sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. Turning wearily, he faced Erik and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Believe it or not, I _don’t_ actually have any trouble finding people who want to sleep with me,’ he said abruptly, taking Erik by surprise. ‘Quite the reverse, in fact.’

Erik opened his mouth to say that he had no idea what Charles was talking about but Charles was already continuing as if Erik had not reacted. 

‘… And I’ve enjoyed it. It’s been good and fun and I like it, but the truth is that I’ve been thinking about taking things slower for quite some time now. This thing with Steve … this slow, boring, no-putting-out-on-the-first-date thing – this is what I _want_ , Erik. It’s been something that I’ve been wanting for a while now.’

Charles paused and Erik again attempted to open his mouth, to say that this is what he wanted too, but Charles’s next words stopped him point blank. 

‘And if I am being honest – and I do try to be, both with myself and with others – then I should tell you that the night we were together – that night with you, that started all this – I had thought that _that_ might be the start of something between us, the start of something more, what with us already being friends and all.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘Turns out I was wrong. But we’ve already dealt with this and it’s no big deal, really – I’m fine with that and I completely understand. I’ve moved on. I accept your apology. That is the end of that.

‘But – and I’m sorry, Erik – I think that this is where we’ve got our wires crossed. You see, when I say that I was looking for something _more_ with you, I meant something more _substantial_ than just sex. I’m _really_ not looking for something casual right now, not even if it’s long-term. I wasn’t particularly looking for something casual that night either, but I’m even more certain that I’m not now. I don’t want that for myself anymore.’ Charles paused then and gave Erik a weak smile. ‘And so, you see, it’s rather useless to come after me and spend all this effort trying to get back into my good books. I’m afraid that I’m done with that life. I’m sorry, but you will just have to find someone else.’ Seeing Erik’s fraught expression, Charles seemed to soften slightly. ‘Don’t be like that, Erik,’ he said kindly. ‘I’m sure there are _plenty_ of people willing to sleep with you. I’m sure there are loads of people who would love to – er – come to a more satisfactory arrangement to meet your needs. I’m just … not.’ He gave Erik a sad smile and friendly pat on the arm. ‘I’d best be off now, Erik. I – I do hope you find what you are looking for. Goodbye.’

Erik was staring at Charles in something close to horror. He felt as if he might start hyperventilating. Charles honestly thought that he … 

… And yet he couldn’t so even bring himself protest Charles’s assertions, couldn’t say anything to refute this idea that all he wanted was a casual sexual relationship. After all – what else would Charles think after Erik had used him so badly? And – Erik cringed as he looked back on it – he realised he hadn’t been particularly clear about his intentions when speaking to Charles. Sure, the intentions had been there and _he_ was sure of what he wanted, but he hadn’t explained that to Charles. He’d merely told Charles that he _wanted_ him. As far as Charles knew, all that meant was that Erik wanted to fuck him. Erik had never ever hated his lack of natural eloquence more than he did now, not even back when he had been at school as a child and had been forced to give an oral presentation with his (then) thick, harsh accent in front of a dozen jeering classmates. Apparently his poor social skills had only deteriorated further since that time.

All this passed through Erik’s head in the space of a second. As Charles turned his back, he finally managed to grasp hold of the last of his senses and, remembering all that Alex and Hank had advised, made one last final stab at mending his bridges. ‘Can we at least still be friends?’ he blurted.

Charles turned around in surprise and Erik rushed to say more. ‘I know that _this_ – _this_ right now – is not something that you would want to deal with everyday,’ he said, stumbling slightly in his haste but nevertheless sounding completely earnest. ‘And I know that I am probably causing you more trouble than I am worth, and that this conversation we just had – far from winning you over to my side, has probably made you want to run for the hills.’ Erik took a deep breath before gazing imploringly into Charles’s eyes. ‘But I can’t help that – it’s just, I’ve never had a proper friendship before,’ he said in a rush. ‘Not a proper, functional one. Not one that I had to seek out and _work_ at. I know I screw things up – that _I’m_ a screw-up, but-’ he paused, swallowing. ‘I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want your forgiveness and your friendship right now. So – please, Charles – please, at least, consider it.’

Charles stared at Erik, looking torn. He was clearly tired and cold and eager to get back inside to Steve, but something inside him made him hesitate, despite everything. He hadn’t at all forgotten Erik’s behaviour – not from the last few minutes _or_ the last few weeks. He knew that being around Erik would be an ordeal; that it was a bad idea; and that if his sister, Raven, ever heard about this then he would never hear the end of it. _Nothing_ about this idea was good. And yet … and yet …

‘Just friends,’ Erik added quickly, sensing Charles’s hesitation and holding his hands up as if to calm a spooked animal. ‘Only friends. That’s all I – that’s all _I will ask_ – from you. Please, Charles.’ He met Charles’s eyes and held them, knowing full well that, should Charles reject him now, their chances of ever reconciling were slim to none.

Charles’s forehead creased. He studied Erik, scrutinising his expression and the pleading look in his eyes. He bit his lip and his eyebrows knitted together as he debated with himself for a moment, clearly struggling with some powerful internal dilemma. Then, just when Erik had all but given up, Charles sighed and his face relaxed. ‘Okay,’ he said gently, giving Erik a small, weary smile and reaching across to pat his arm. ‘Okay then. Friends.’

Then, before Erik could so much as respond, he gave Erik one last tight smile and walked away, heading back into the restaurant to rejoin a patiently-waiting Steve.

Erik glanced down at the arm that Charles had touched. Normally he detested pity – he’d had more than enough of it when he was younger – but this time he was grateful for it. 

He was grateful for anything, really, when it came to Charles. 

He pulled his coat closer around him, shivering from something more than the cold, before throwing one last look at the restaurant and then walking away.


	8. Chapter 8

Erik stared morosely down at the glass of gin in his hand, his mind clearly far away.

Alex and Hank shared a helpless glance. Erik had been sitting there hunched in that same position for the better part of an hour now, without saying a word. Even more worrying still, he hadn’t glared at them once since he had walked through the door that evening, despite the way that they had been constantly and conspicuously hovering around him in an awkward, anxious silence.

Neither Alex nor Hank had managed to dredge up the courage to interrogate Erik, even though they were both dying to find out what had happened at Charles’s dinner date (they may or may not have had something of a bet riding on the outcome). So they had taken the coward’s way out by silently supplying Erik with more and more alcohol each time his glass emptied, hoping that the constant attention would bear fruit by loosening Erik’s tongue and, once he was drunk enough, getting them the full story.

It was only after an hour of constant alcohol consumption that Erik’s iron composure began to crack. And even then it required a bit of nudging on Alex’s part.

‘So,’ Alex asked cautiously, carefully wiping a glass with a rag and playing the part of the dutiful and attentive bartender. ‘You want to talk about it?’

Erik didn’t even glare at him, just stared unhappily down at his drink. ‘Not particularly,’ he grunted, his mouth pulling down at the sides.

Hank and Alex shared a look.

‘Did you-’ Hank started but he was interrupted by Erik’s abrupt pronouncement.

‘He thought I wanted to fuck him.’

There was silence. Alex and Hank stared at Erik bemusedly. ‘Er – come again?’

‘He thought,’ Erik repeated grimly, taking a sip of his drink and setting the glass down with a deliberate _clink_. ‘That I wanted to fuck him.’

Alex’s eyebrows drew together. ‘Er, dude – _Erik_ ,’ he said slowly. ‘No offence or anything – but _isn’t_ that what you want?’

Erik immediately scowled. ‘ _No!_ ’ he said vehemently, glaring at them both. Then he paused and let out a tired sigh, his shoulders slumping. ‘Well – not _just_ that. I don’t want this to end up like –’ he swallowed. ‘Like me and Magda.’

Hank opened his mouth to ask who Magda was but Alex was able to elbow him sharply in the ribs before he could get the words out of his mouth. 

‘Well, to be fair, _car crashes_ were more appealing than the way things were between you and Magda,’ Alex said breezily, nudging Hank out of the way. ‘Now, come on. Tell us what happened.’

It took a while for Erik to agree but eventually he gave in and revealed all the sordid details of the night to Alex and Hank, who kept on catching each other’s eyes meaningfully all the way through the whole recital. It seemed that there would definitely be money changing hands later.

‘So …’ Hank said at the end, when Erik had finally finished. He didn’t say anything further, though, apparently at a loss for words. 

Alex, luckily, had no such problem. ‘You’re a complete _dumb-ass_ ,’ he said bluntly, staring at Erik with his hands on his hips and a disapproving look in his eyes. ‘Seriously – a _complete_ asshat.’

Erik idly wondered when it was that his subordinates had suddenly plucked up the nerve to start insulting him to his face, and – even worse – when he had started _accepting_ the criticism without even attempting to threaten bodily harm in return. 

_Oh right_ , he remembered. _Since Charles._

 _Everything_ had become screwed up since Charles.

Odd how he didn’t exactly seem to mind it very much.

Alex was still ranting on about Erik’s complete and utter _dumb-assery_. ‘You would _think_ that you would have learned something from all this shit,’ he grumbled, scowling around him. ‘I mean, what the heck was the point of me and Hank coaching you all day long if you were just gonna go and fuck it all up without a second thought? I mean _Jesus_ , Erik!’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Erik mumbled, scowling down at the table.

Hank gave Alex a sharp look before approaching Erik and gingerly taking the seat next to him. ‘But you parted friends, right?’ he asked carefully, taking care not to place himself too near the reach of Erik’s arms. ‘You said that before he left – after your argument – he agreed that you were friends.’

Erik blinked before letting out a groan that, in any other man, would have been a sound of almost piteous despair. ‘Yes,’ he said reluctantly. ‘He did say that. But who knows what _that_ means!’

Alex and Hank exchanged yet another glance.

‘Um …’ Hank began hesitantly. ‘Isn’t the meaning rather … self-evident?’

Alex shook his head, clucking his tongue. ‘Dude, you’re forgetting – this is _Erik_. The whole damn concept of friendship is pretty much non-existent to him.’

Erik looked up at that and glared, feeling slightly hurt by Alex’s words. He was, obviously, quite drunk.

‘Not that you haven’t been getting better,’ Alex hurried to add, noticing Erik’s expression. When Erik’s eyes only narrowed further, he looked down at his hands and began to fidget.

‘I believe that Alex was making a simple jocular remark without any intention to hurt,’ Hank explained, coming to Alex’s rescue. This only made Erik scowl all the harder, until Hank continued, oblivious. ‘… Although it must be said that the entire premise of said joke was flawed, considering the fact that Alex knows full well that both he and I are friends of yours and vice versa, proving the joke’s foundations completely inaccurate. That said, when taking into account Erik’s sullen disposition and his entire demeanour prior to this friendship, then yes, I suppose that Alex’s words do take on a fairly humorous tone to them.’

He paused when he saw both Alex and Erik staring at him with blank expressions, and then went red with embarrassment. ‘Sorry,’ he said sheepishly, looking down at his feet. ‘I have often been told that others do not appreciate having a joke deconstructed for them. I will refrain from it in the future.’

‘No problem, Bozo,’ Alex said, still slightly dazed. ‘Though, seriously, I didn’t think that you could get any dorkier than you already were. Still, it’s not like we shouldn’t have expected it.’

Hank gave Alex a surprisingly wide grin at that. ‘It’s okay,’ he said, eyes twinkling. ‘I like being a dork. It’s better than the alternative.’

‘If you two are quite done flirting, can we get back to _my_ problem?’ Erik drawled, causing Alex to roll his eyes and Hank to blush.

‘What _is_ your problem?’ Alex asked with exaggerated patience.

‘My problem is that I don’t know what to do,’ Erik said, glaring at the table. ‘I just … what should I do?’

‘Maybe you should just do as the Prof says?’ Hank offered timidly. ‘And just – you know – be his friend?’

Erik’s mouth turned downwards and he looked deeply unhappy at the prospect.

‘Hank’s right,’ Alex agreed. ‘You tried forcing the issue once and look what happened. It’s time to lay low. Make friendly with him and stuff. Show him that you’re not completely bat-shit insane.’

Hank snorted but was quickly silence by a look from Erik.

‘You’re forgetting something,’ Erik said, his fists clenched. ‘It’s all very well to think of Charles and I becoming friends, but _what_ exactly am I supposed to do about that overgrown blond moron _Steve_?’

Alex just shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘What do _you_ want to do about him?’

Erik growled and clenched his hands. ‘What I want,’ he said, venom thick in his voice. ‘Is to be rid of him. Permanently.’

There was silence. Alex and Hank blinked. Then:

‘Oh my God, are you thinking about murdering the Professor’s boyfriend?’ Hank yelped, causing a few bar patrons to look up from their conversations in surprise. 

‘No, I-’

‘Holy shit, you’re gonna kill the Prof’s boyfriend!’ Alex looked as if he couldn’t decide between being shocked or awed. He settled on a confused, horrified look of appreciation.

‘Don’t be stupid!’ Erik snapped, feeling distinctly irritated. ‘Of course I’m not planning on killing him. I’m not planning on killing _anybody_. I can’t imagine why you would think that.’

Alex gave him a disbelieving look. ‘Really?’ he demanded, putting his hands on his hips. ‘You can’t think of _any_ reason why we thought that you might go all homicidal psycho axe-murderer on the Prof’s boyfriend?’

‘Shut up,’ Erik said grumpily. ‘And don’t call him that. Steve is _not_ Charles’s boyfriend.’

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever. Anyway. The answer to your question is: nothing.’

Erik raised an eyebrow.

‘Your question,’ Alex explained. ‘About what to do about the Prof’s new squeeze. The answer is nothing. Nada. Zilch.’

‘So you are saying that I should just let that overgrown blond Boy Scout seduce Charles and sweep him off his feet so that they live happily ever after?’ Erik asked flatly.

Alex sighed. ‘ _Of course not_ ,’ he said, sounding almost impatient. ‘What I’m saying is that you don’t do anything _yet_. This was the Prof’s first date. They’re still getting to know each other. There are _loads_ of things that could go wrong for them. All you have to do is … you know … wait for them to happen.’

‘Alex’s strategy is a solid one,’ Hank agreed, nodding his head. ‘There are several variables that could result in their separation. You yourself said that the Professor is unused to being in a long-term relationship and that, from your observations, this “Steve” is the sort to look for a commitment. From my research and my viewing of the numerous television dramas and serials that my flatmates insist on watching, I believe that this alone is more than enough material to spark feelings of dissatisfaction between the two, particularly when considering the Professor’s apparent issues with commitment.’

‘Yeah, what he said,’ Alex nodded, jerking his thumb at Hank. 

‘Besides,’ Hank continued. ‘This strategy is the safest to undertake. I cannot imagine that the Professor would be too pleased if he found out that you were trying to destroy his relationship. Indeed, attempting to do so would most likely have the very opposite effect and drive the two closer together. And, judging by your previous behaviour, the Professor is very likely going to be on his guard, watching for any signs of sabotage on your part. No, your best avenue of action is to do as Alex suggests, and do nothing.’

‘Well,’ Erik said after a moment, having digested all of this. ‘You make a good argument.’

Hank blushed and mumbled something about having been the debate team captain at high school.

‘I suppose that answers my question then,’ Erik continued musingly. ‘I do nothing.’

‘Yeah,’ Alex said, feeling slightly relieved. ‘That’s right – nothing.’

‘I just … be his friend.’ Erik’s voice was thoughtful.

‘Yeah,’ Alex nodded. ‘Friends. Good friends. _Great_ friends. Hang out, and stuff.’

‘Friends,’ Erik repeated slowly. ‘Friends.’ Then his tone changed and his gaze sharpened. He blinked to clear his head and sat up straight in his chair. ‘Fine,’ he said decisively. ‘Friends.’

Alex and Hank shared a nervous look. Alex immediately grabbed a bottle of scotch and poured them both a double. As one, they picked up their glasses and downed them.

Erik continued, oblivious and uncaring. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘He wants to be friends? Then fine. I’ll be his friend. I’ll be the _best motherfucking friend_ that he will ever have, you just see if I won’t.’

Hank groaned and hid his face in his arms, while Alex snorted.

‘I don’t think fucking his mother is the way to become his best friend, dude,’ he said dryly. ‘Although, I suspect if it were, then you’d be right up for it. ‘Cause – you know – you’re kind of insane and all.’

Hank looked up at that. ‘Your reasoning is both logical and illogical at the same time,’ he mused from where his head was pillowed on his arm, sneakily eyeing the half empty bottle of gin by Erik’s side. ‘It’s rather fascinating.’

Alex turned an affectionate eye on Hank and ruffled his hair. ‘Whatever you say, bozo,’ he said cheerily, before pausing. ‘And you know, we _really_ have to get you to stop being such a lightweight, seriously man, it’s _shameful_. That was _one_ glass.’

‘You’ve been plying me with drink all evening!’ Hank objected. ‘I must have had half a bottle of scotch by now! And,’ he added, sitting up in indignation, ‘just because you and Erik have the constitutions of a couple of dinosaurs doesn’t mean that I’m a _lightweight_.’

‘It kinda does, buddy,’ Alex said, and attempted to ruffle Hank’s hair again, an attempt which Hank successfully avoided by ducking.

Erik sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘I can see that I’m not about to get any more gems of wisdom from you two,’ he said in a long-suffering voice. He rose from his seat, and – despite the amount of alcohol that he had been consuming – didn’t so much as sway on his feet. ‘I’ll ring for last orders and you two can help me close up. But only if that’s all right with you. I mean, it’s not as if either of you actually _work_ here, after all.’

‘Okay, okay I get it,’ Alex grumbled, getting to his feet. ‘No need to hurt yourself throwing out any more hints, I’m coming.’

Hank nodded and made an attempt to get up as well, only to almost topple over when his legs began to wobble. ‘On second thoughts,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Perhaps I’ll leave the work to you two. S’not as if I work here or anything,’ he added almost defiantly when both Alex and Erik smirked at him.

‘Give it time,’ Alex said wisely.

Whether he meant it as advice regarding his coordination or a dismal prophecy of his future job prospects, Hank didn’t know.

He sighed. With the way things were going, he’d probably be employed here by the end of the week. The embodiment of the cliché of the adult life of a child prodigy.

Still, Hank mused as he carefully got up from his seat. It could be worse. Erik and Alex may eventually succeed in driving him completely mad, but hey – at least here there would be alcohol along the way.

*****

‘According to his diary,’ Hank announced, his eyes glued to the photocopied pages in his hands, ‘The Professor is free on Monday nights, Wednesday afternoons, and Thursday evenings. I’m not counting the weekends since that’s when you work all day,’ he added helpfully, nodding at Erik. ‘Of course there’s always Friday nights, but since Charles now spends them at _Hellfire_ , I’m assuming that you joining him there is an unlikely scenario?’

‘Absolutely out of the question,’ Erik confirmed with a sharp nod.

‘Right, just as I thought. So really, your only options are Monday, Wednesday and Thursday.’

‘I work on Mondays,’ Erik pointed out.

‘Plus it’s his turn to cover Karaoke Thursday,’ Alex added, bravely not backing down when Erik turned to glare at him. ‘What? It’s _true_ , you haven’t worked Thursday nights in _weeks_! The bet’s over now, man, you can’t make me do this anymore. I _won’t_ do it anymore. There’s no way in hell that I’m going to go another week listening to Cassidy’s screeching – I swear, one more time and I’ll take a steak knife to my head. You’re not getting out of this, Erik. Not this time.’

Erik grumbled under his breath but didn’t protest any further. He knew that Alex was right; he had managed to escape Karaoke duty for a while now, so it was only fair that he take Thursday’s shift, however much it pained him (and his ears) to do it. He couldn’t blame Alex for pushing the matter – if there was one thing that they had in common, it was how they felt about Karaoke Thursdays.

‘So it looks like Wednesday is our only viable option,’ Hank concluded, scratching his nose. ‘That works out quite well, I should think. It was always the more preferable option: I have generally found that an afternoon together is considered to be less romantic than an evening together, which makes it a less threatening proposition, particularly if you want to convince the Professor that you are not pursuing him romantically. It also significantly increases the chances of him agreeing to meet you –I believe that he is much more likely to respond to an offer of lunch than to an invitation to dinner.’

Erik nodded slowly. ‘That makes sense,’ he agreed. He glanced over at Hank and Alex. ‘You think I ought to call him now?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Hank answered.

‘Yeah, better do it now before you can chicken out,’ Alex added.

Erik sent Alex a dirty look but he was already reaching into his pocket and grabbing hold of his phone. ‘Do we have his-’

‘Here,’ Hank was already pushing across a piece of paper with a telephone number on it. ‘The Professor gave me his number a while back when I volunteered to help with the Science department’s after-hours lab-work,’ he explained with a shrug. ‘Apparently I was the only one who volunteered.’

The explanation seemed to put Erik at ease while Alex merely snorted in amusement. ‘Somehow I’m not surprised,’ he said, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

Erik reached forward and picked up the scrap of paper, holding it almost reverently between his fingers. ‘Alright then,’ he said, looking down at it and then at the phone in his hand. ‘Here goes.’ With one last glance at the other two, he quickly tapped the number into his phone and then hit the call button, taking a deep breath before putting it to his ear.

He continued to hold his breath as the phone rang through, but no one picked up. Erik frowned and dialled again but the same thing happened and the phone went unanswered. He was just about to give up hope when, at long last, there was a _click_ and someone at the other end spoke.

‘Mm hello?’ came a muzzy, throaty voice.

Erik’s mouth went dry. 

‘Hello?’ the voice was stronger, more alert this time. ‘May I ask who this is?’

Worried that he might hang up if he didn’t receive a response, Erik forced himself to speak. ‘Charles?’ he managed to sputter out.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Charles answered. ‘… Erik?’ the question was tentative, unsure.

‘Yes,’ Erik said immediately, rather gratified that Charles had recognised him by that one word. ‘It’s me. I hope you don’t mind me calling?’

‘…No,’ the word was slow to come. Then: ‘Erik, how did you get my number exactly?’

‘Er,’ Erik widened his eyes and shook his head at Alex and Hank who were leaning in close, curiosity in their eyes. ‘You gave it to me, remember?’

‘I did?’ Charles sounded bewildered. ‘When?’

‘Oh,’ Erik wracked his brains. ‘Ages ago.’

‘Oh,’ there was a pause. ‘But … that night … when I tried to get your number …’ He trailed off.

Erik winced. ‘Yes, well,’ he clenched his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t think I was thinking very straight back then.’

‘Right,’ Charles’s voice still held a doubtful note. ‘If you say so.’

‘Well, how else do you explain my having your number in my phone?’ Erik challenged, finding comfort in going on the attack, as he usually did. 

‘That _is_ the question, isn’t it?’ Charles remarked dryly, but before Erik could respond, he let out a huge yawn. ‘Goodness, sorry about that Erik, I didn’t mean to yawn in your ear.’

‘Charles,’ Erik said slowly, a hint of amusement entering his voice, ‘Were you _asleep_?’

‘No!’ Charles sounded much too defensive for that to be the truth.

‘Charles, it’s three o’ clock in the afternoon,’ Erik drawled, leaning against the table, feeling suddenly relaxed. ‘Don’t tell me that you decided to have an afternoon nap? You aren’t _really_ an eighty-year old pensioner, you know, even if you do insist on dressing like one.’

‘Oi!’ Charles protested but Erik was able to hear the humour in his voice. ‘You’re not allowed to tease me about my clothes, Erik. My jokes, yes; my pick-up lines, certainly; but you leave my cardigans out of it, you hear?’

Erik rolled his eyes but he was smiling. ‘You and your cardigans,’ he said fondly. _This_ was what he had been missing. This easy, bantering friendship of theirs.

‘And, for your information,’ Charles continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. ‘It’s not _my_ fault that I fell asleep – _you_ try marking two dozen first-year undergraduate essays on the ethical dilemmas surrounding genetic engineering and see if _you_ manage to stay awake!’

‘Only if _you_ can manage to go a whole evening without plugging your ears on Karaoke Thursday,’ Erik retorted with an easy smile. It took a moment for him to realise what exactly he had said, and then he widened his eyes in panic, worried that he had unconsciously pushed things too far too soon.

Charles, however, seemed to have taken the invitation in the spirit with which it had been made. ‘It’s a deal,’ he laughed. ‘The next time I have a bunch of essays that need marking, I will be sure to let you know. Now,’ he said, and Erik could imagine him sitting up and straightening his back. ‘What did you say was the reason that you were calling?’

‘I didn’t,’ Erik said after a pause. ‘I just-’ he swallowed before summoning up his courage. ‘Charles, we’re friends, right?’

‘…Right,’ Charles answered after a long moment, his tone cautious.

‘And friends do things together, right?’ Erik asked, clumsily trying to find a way to broach the matter just as casually as he had somehow managed to invite Charles along to have his ears bleed out during the weekly torture sessions that were Karaoke Thursdays. 

‘Yes,’ Charles replied, sounding only slightly less stilted than before.

Erik cleared his throat. ‘Right then,’ he said, feeling hopelessly clumsy and awkward. ‘I think we should do something together.’

‘Oh,’ Charles actually sounded surprised. There was a pause. ‘Why?’

Erik felt his heart sink. ‘I – I thought – since we’re friends. Unless we …’

There was a noise at the other end of the phone and Charles quickly interrupted him, speaking in a rush. ‘Yes, yes, of course, sorry, I didn’t mean to say that – it seems my head’s still a little fuzzy. I understand you – we’re friends, and friends do things together, yes?’ He continued before Erik could answer, still sounding slightly flustered. ‘Right. So. What did you have in mind?’

‘Er,’ Erik blinked dumbly before scrambling to gather his wits. ‘I was thinking maybe we could meet for lunch? Maybe – go see a film?’

‘That – that sounds okay, I suppose …’

Erik beamed. ‘Wednesday all right for you?’ he asked eagerly, clutching his phone tightly to his ear. ‘Around lunchtime?’

‘Wednesday,’ Charles repeated slowly. There came the sound of a number of pages being turned. ‘Yes … Wednesday should be fine, I think. Actually, that’s the only day I _am_ free for lunch.’

‘Yes, well,’ Erik met Hank’s eyes. ‘I have Wednesdays off. I just … hoped you would too.’ 

‘Hmm,’ Charles made a thoughtful sound. ‘Well, let me make a note of it in my diary and I will let you know if anything changes, yes?’

‘Yes,’ Erik replied immediately, feeling both relieved and elated.

‘Right then,’ Charles suddenly sounded slightly awkward. Erik thought that he could hear him shifting about in the background.

‘Right,’ Erik said in return, not knowing what else to say.

‘… I suppose I had best get back to marking these wretched essays,’ Charles said eventually. ‘Honestly, some of them are enough to make you despair about the state of young people nowadays. I am _sure_ that I wasn’t quite so empty-headed when I was an undergraduate. Thank goodness for Hank, or I would lose all hope for the lot of them. I don’t know what I would do without him.’

‘Yes,’ Erik said, turning and glancing towards the person in question, who was watching Erik intently as he spoke. ‘I know exactly how you feel.’

‘You do?’ Charles sounded surprised.

‘Er – yes,’ Erik said quickly. ‘Alex, you know. Works with me at _Genosha_? He’s … a friend. Reliable. Honest. The only person I can stand, most days.’

Alex puffed his chest out and preened at the praise, which – coming from Erik – was very high indeed.

‘Ah,’ Charles’s voice was soft. ‘Yes, I’m glad. And I know Alex. He’s a good person. I’m glad that the two of you are close friends.’

‘I wouldn’t go _that_ far,’ Erik grumbled, unable to keep the disgruntled expression off his face as Alex smirked at him and pushed out his chest proudly, practically oozing smugness. ‘Most days he’s barely tolerable.’

Charles let out a laugh at that, which soothed Erik immeasurably. It had been a long time since he had heard that laugh. He had missed it more than he realised.

‘Yes, well, I’m sure you like him better than you’d like him to think,’ Charles said warmly. ‘Now I really ought to go, Erik. It’s – it’s been good talking to you. I’m – I am glad you called.’ 

‘So am I,’ Erik said in a low voice, feeling gratified by the genuine feeling in Charles’s voice. ‘I will see you on Wednesday, then?’

‘Wednesday,’ Charles promised, and after saying goodbye, he hung up.

Erik slowly brought the phone away from his ear, a strange sense of elation fizzing in his stomach. It was an odd feeling but he didn’t try to suppress it. If this was the way he felt after (successfully) asking Charles to lunch as a friend, then he couldn’t imagine how he would feel when he finally asked Charles out on an actual date. 

Although, he supposed, with the way things were looking now, that might not be for a very long time. And even then the chances of success were depressingly slim. 

Erik wasn’t going to allow anything to spoil his sense of accomplishment now, however. He had made contact, had offered an invitation, and Charles had accepted. They were definitely and unequivocally now friends and Wednesday could only make things better. Well, no, it _could_ potentially make things worse, but Erik was nothing if not an optimist. Depending on who you asked, of course.

‘Well?’ he asked triumphantly when he had finally put his phone away. ‘What did you think?’

‘Er – it was good?’ Hank offered, unsure of what he was meant to say.

‘Yeah man, it was great!’ Alex beamed, showing a great deal more enthusiasm. ‘Especially that part where you talked me up. Makes you look like a nicer person,’ he added hurriedly when Erik threw him a glare. ‘Like – you know – you appreciate other people and all that.’

Erik conceded that there was a grain of truth to the words, even though he was sure that Alex just wanted to hear Erik say more nice things about him. The kid was probably attention-starved or something. Erik couldn’t say that he handed out praise willingly, after all. He probably ought to remedy that. ‘Yeah well,’ he said gruffly, shrugging his shoulders somewhat stiffly. ‘I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.’

Alex’s look of delighted surprise was almost enough to make up for the pain that Erik felt in having to actually say it.

‘You know, we should probably go over a few ground rules for your lunch with the Professor,’ Hank said thoughtfully, successfully distracting Erik.

‘What sort of ground rules?’ Erik asked suspiciously.

‘Well, for one,’ Alex appeared to have got over his surprised gratification impressively quickly, ‘- and you will have to get this through your head and keep it there for the rest of the foreseeable future, mind – you have to remember that your little lunch with Charles is not – I repeat _not_ – a date.’

Erik glared at him. ‘I _know_ it’s not a date,’ he said, rolling his eyes.

‘No, Erik, seriously,’ Alex said, his expression earnest. ‘It. Is. _Not_. A. Date.’

‘Yes, I know!’ Erik said impatiently.

‘So that means _no_ flirting,’ Alex warned. 

‘No excessive touching,’ Hank added.

‘No fancy-schmancy restaurants.’

‘No paying for your meal all by yourself – make sure you split the bill.’

‘No playing footsie under the table.’

‘No kiss at the end.’

‘No-’

‘I said _I get it_!’ Erik snapped, finally losing his temper. ‘I am _not_ a moron. I _know_ these things!’

‘Yeah well, just make sure you _remember_ them,’ Alex said darkly. ‘And don’t get carried away. Even if it looks like you’ve got an in. _Especially_ if it looks like you’ve got an in.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Erik grumbled, scowling down at his feet. ‘Anything else you want to add to rain on my brief few seconds of happiness?’

Alex and Hank shared a look.

‘Well,’ Hank said awkwardly. ‘I sort of have one …’

Erik sighed. ‘Go on,’ he said, sounding resigned. ‘You may as well come out with it.’

‘We’re only trying to help,’ Alex said consolingly.

Erik gave him an unimpressed look. ‘Why else do you think I haven’t glassed you with one of these bottles yet?’ he muttered gloomily.

Hank paled.

‘Don’t worry, Bozo,’ Alex said soothingly. ‘The nearest bottles are all of scotch and Erik hates wasting that stuff. You’ll have time to run for it if he ever takes it into his head to brain us with a bottle. The shit beer’s kept all the way over _there_.’

Hank threw a doubtful look at Erik who shrugged. ‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘There’s a special rung in hell reserved for those who waste good scotch, I always say.’

‘Right,’ Hank shifted on his feet before pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘Well – I just wanted to say that – you should probably say something about the boyfriend.’

‘Boyfriend?’

‘Er – the Professor’s date from the other night?’ Hank prompted nervously.

Erik’s nostrils flared. ‘ _Steve_ ,’ he said deliberately. ‘Is _not_ Charles’s boyfriend. And _why_ , pray tell, would I want to talk to Charles about _Steve_ of all people?’

‘For reconnaissance?’ Hank offered, even as he tensed up as if ready for flight. ‘To find out whether or not he is still in the picture? And also to show that you are not threatened by his presence in the Professor’s life. That you are perfectly capable of acting civil when discussing him.’

Erik looked thoughtful at that. ‘You may be on to something,’ he admitted, which made Hank sigh with relief.

Erik then turned to glance at his watch and immediately grimaced at the time. ‘Well, gentlemen, if that’s all …?’ he said, looking to the others. When they both shrugged he continued. ‘Then, if you don’t mind, I would like to propose a drink.’

The other two stared at him in surprise. Erik had never purposefully invited them to drink with him before. Usually it just sort of _happened_. Erik normally just grunted and reluctantly allowed them to join him, or otherwise turned a blind eye to their alcoholic consumption. An outright invitation was unheard of. Neither Hank nor Alex appeared to know quite how to react. Tolerating them was one thing; inviting them for a drink, it seemed, was on another level entirely.

Erik sighed at their confused expressions. ‘Look,’ he said, explaining reluctantly. ‘I managed to get a da- a _lunch_ with Charles, and you two helped me to do it. Well – Hank did mainly, but I suppose you had _some_ use, Summers. I think that’s deserving of a drink, yes?’

Both Hank and Alex were quick to agree. 

And so, a few minutes later, they were all standing around a half-empty bottle of scotch – the good stuff, at that – clinking glasses, and toasting to the continued success of the mission (labelled Project X by Hank and – strangely – Project Magneto by Alex, who gave a vaguely credible explanation for the name by spouting some guff about magnets and how opposites attracted. Hank had looked suitably pleased, at any rate. Erik had simply told them to shut up and keep their nerdy names to themselves).

As he raised the glass of scotch to his mouth, Erik found himself smiling. He was well aware that he had a long way to go before he was anywhere near done making it up to Charles, but for the moment he couldn’t help feeling ever so slightly optimistic.

Bringing the glass to his mouth, Erik took a sip and smiled. 

Wednesday really couldn’t come soon enough.


	9. Chapter 9

Charles called Erik on Monday night to tentatively confirm that he was indeed free for lunch on Wednesday if it was still on the cards. Erik, of course, at once leapt to confirm that it was and to assure Charles that nothing short of a full-blown nuclear attack could make him cancel it. After a few minutes of casual conversation that somehow still got Erik’s pulse racing, it was decided that Erik would meet Charles outside the university Science building and that they would go and get lunch from there. Charles hung up soon after that, but Erik found himself strangely holding on to the receiver long after the dial tone had sounded from the other side.

So it was that at half past twelve on Wednesday afternoon Erik presented himself at the University, dressed neatly but casually – it _wasn’t_ a date, after all, as Alex kept reminding him – and very much ready for his lunch with Charles. He knew he was slightly early (forty-five minutes wasn’t _outrageously_ early, was it?) but he wanted to be on time to prevent Charles from worrying – even for a minute – that he might not turn up. Erik would rather wait for hours and hours than give Charles the slightest cause to doubt him again. And if his being early allowed him to escape the clutches of Hank and Alex, who had been fretting over him all morning like a couple of fussy mother hens, then that was only another advantage to his being overly-punctual.

Erik had been patiently waiting outside the Science building for almost twenty minutes when the doors abruptly opened and a strangely-familiar woman walked out. It was a moment before Erik recognised her as the person who had been with Charles during his very first visit to the University, and for a minute he was almost tempted to walk over to her and introduce himself. Before he could make a decision, however, the woman suddenly glanced up and their eyes met. The woman paused then and frowned for a moment before his identity appeared to dawn on her. Strangely, instead of alleviating her frown, the recognition only made her expression grow darker. She quickly altered the direction that she had been walking in and instead made her way directly over to Erik, her legs moving swiftly and precisely until she came to a stop right in front of him.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked briskly, her tone quite at odds with her words.

Erik’s eyes had narrowed ever so slightly at her hostile attitude, but he determinedly forced himself to stay civil. This was Charles’s friend, after all. ‘Yes,’ he said politely, dipping his head. ‘I’m waiting for Charles. Do you know if he will be out soon?’

The woman’s nostrils flared at the mention of Charles’s name. ‘No,’ she said, her voice flat. Clearly she wasn’t in the mood to be helpful. ‘I don’t.’

Erik felt himself bristling and he made himself count to ten in his head, taking a moment to suppress his burgeoning irritation. ‘Oh,’ he tried for a smile, but it wasn’t very convincing. ‘Right.’ Then, just because he was feeling prickly and he couldn’t stop himself: ‘You’re his friend – Mara, right?’

The woman’s face darkened even further. ‘Moira,’ she said, her voice clipped. ‘But _you_ can call me Dr. MacTaggart.’

And if that wasn’t a declaration of hostility, then Erik didn’t know what was. For some reason, though, the blatant display of unfriendliness seemed to calm him. ‘I see,’ he replied evenly, raising an eyebrow. ‘In that case, _you_ may call me Mr. Lehnsherr.’

Moira didn’t appear to be put off by the coolness of his tone. ‘What are you doing here, _Mr_ Lehnsherr?’ she demanded instead, folding her arms and eyeing him suspiciously.

‘I told you,’ Erik said impatiently, beginning to feel more than a little irritable. ‘I’m here to see Charles. We’re going for lunch.’

Moira blinked at that as if taken aback, before frowning once again and putting her hands on her hips. ‘Charles is dating Steve,’ she said, her eyes narrowing.

Erik felt a flicker of irritation run through him. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘So I will ask you again,’ Moira crossed her arms over her chest and glared. It was a very impressive glare, Erik was forced to admit. ‘What are you _doing_ here?’

Erik took a deep breath and willed himself to be patient. ‘Charles and I are friends,’ he said, as calmly as he could. ‘And – as I have already told you – we have lunch plans together. Does that answer your question?’ He could not stop the irritation from leaking into his voice. Then again, he didn’t particularly want to.

Moira raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips together. She kept her eyes trained on his face and it was a moment before she spoke. ‘You know, he told me who you are,’ she said suddenly, taking him by surprise. ‘After you came by the other day. He told me what you did. He told me everything.’ Her eyes narrowed abruptly. ‘And I’ll have you know that I don’t at all like what you did to him. Not one little bit. I don’t like what you _did_ , and I don’t like _you_.’

Erik bit his tongue before he started swearing at the woman, his chest a tight knot of shame and anger. ‘That’s your prerogative,’ he said stiffly, even as his nails were digging crescents into the palms of his hands. ‘Thankfully, the only person whose opinion I care about is Charles.’

‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up there either,’ Moira said, sniffing. She blinked then and looked Erik straight in the eyes. ‘You hurt him, you know,’ she said quietly. ‘He tried not to show it but I’ve been his friend for a long time now. I could tell. He was really upset.’ She bit her lip, as if considering whether or not she should say more. ‘He’s talked about you before,’ she said abruptly, catching Erik off guard. ‘He used to tell me all about this wonderful place he used to go to at the end of the week, this place with this intriguing, _fascinating_ barman who was just one of the most magnetic people that he had ever met.’ She paused, watching as Erik ducked his head in shame. ‘He stopped talking about this place some weeks ago,’ she said tonelessly. ‘I didn’t know why. Not until you came by.’

Erik looked away. He couldn’t meet her eyes. ‘I know,’ he swallowed tightly. ‘I know I hurt him. I know I don’t deserve him. I just …’ He trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Moira was scrutinising him closely. ‘You seem to care for him, at least,’ she said at last with a sigh. ‘That proves you’re not the heartless monster that I had initially taken you for. But that doesn’t really mean anything. I still don’t think you are good for Charles. I honestly think that you should stay away from him. If you really cared about him then you would stay away from him.’

‘What are you saying?’ Erik growled, his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists.

‘I’m saying,’ Moira said deliberately, ‘That Charles is a _good_ person. _Too_ good, at times. He only sees the best in others and he is willing to give second chances for things that most sane people would never forgive. And that makes him vulnerable.’ She met Erik’s eyes and then grimaced. ‘Charles is funny and smart and strong in a hundred different ways that I could never describe but he also feels things deeply. He expects so much from people that when they disappoint him …’ She trailed off.

‘So,’ Erik said after a moment, his mouth stretched into a grim imitation of a smile. ‘You think that I will disappoint him.’ It was more of a statement than a question.

Moira raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Don’t you?’ she challenged.

Erik grimaced. ‘I can’t say that I won’t,’ he said honestly. ‘And I’m not going to lie and say that I won’t ever hurt him in any way. All I can tell you is that I will try my hardest not to. I already let him down once, badly …’ He swallowed. ‘I don’t know if I could bear to do it again.’

‘Then don’t,’ Moira said immediately. ‘Just – just leave him alone. It’s better that way. It will be kinder for the both of you, and Charles will realise that Steve is the best one for him-’

Erik’s head jerked up at that. A thousand thoughts ran through his head simultaneously. First off there was the sense of unmistakeable, burning resentment for _Steve_ that ran afire through his veins, followed by a respectful dislike of Moira, followed again by a sudden rush of hope. Moira had intimated that Charles _hadn’t_ realised that Steve was the one for him, so that meant that not only was he not yet certain of Steve, but that he –

‘There you are!’ a cheery voice interrupted them and both Erik and Moira jumped guiltily as Charles approached them from behind, a warm smile on his face. This smile then wavered slightly as he caught sight of both of their faces. ‘Erik,’ he said cautiously. ‘I believe you met Moira last time …?’

‘Dr. MacTaggart,’ Erik acknowledged, nodding stiffly.

‘Mr. Lehnsherr,’ Moira responded, giving him a similarly stiff nod.

Charles frowned at that and he looked at them both carefully. His mouth tugged down at the corners when he saw Erik’s troubled expression and when Moira wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.

‘Moira,’ he said, and this time his tone was clipped. ‘Thank you for keeping Erik company until I arrived, but I am sure that you have plenty of things to be doing now. Good afternoon.’

‘Charles, I was just-’

‘Good _afternoon_ , Moira,’ Charles said in a louder voice. Then his expression abruptly lost some of its sternness and he sighed. ‘I will talk to you tomorrow, yes?’ he asked, sounding a great deal more gentle.

Moira nodded her head.

‘Very well,’ Charles gave her a sharp nod before turning to Erik. ‘Come on Erik, I’m starving. Were you waiting long?’

Erik answered him dutifully but he could not help turning back and glancing at Moira. She was standing there, a worried expression on her face as she looked after them, clearly full of genuine friendly concern.

He couldn’t say that he liked her all that much but Erik had to admit that he respected her. In other circumstances they might even have been friends. Moira only wanted what was best for Charles, after all, and there was no way that he could begrudge her for that. And it wasn’t as if he could really blame her for her less-than-stellar opinion of him: honestly, if he was in her position then _he_ wouldn’t want himself around Charles either.

He frowned at the thought and kicked morosely at a stray pebble near his feet. Then, straightening up, he took a deep breath and, with one great effort, forcibly shoved the memory of Moira and her words out of his mind and followed determinedly after Charles.

He might not _deserve_ a second chance with Charles, but now that he had one he sure as hell was not going to waste it.

**...**

‘So,’ Charles said, taking a long sip of his tea. ‘On a scale of one to ten, how much would you say Moira hates you?’

Erik almost choked on the mouthful of sandwich that he had been eating.

Charles waited patiently till he had stopped coughing before he continued. ‘There’s no point in hiding it,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘I’ve known Moira for almost ten years now, and I know what she can be like. She’s a darling, of course, and I adore her, but sometimes she can be …’ He paused, searching for the correct word.

‘A bitch?’ Erik offered before he could stop himself.

Luckily, Charles laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose,’ he said merrily, his eyes twinkling. ‘I _was_ going to say “tenacious” but I suppose that fits just as well. She gets on well with Raven and Emma, so that should tell you something right there.’

‘Raven being your sister?’ Erik asked, a touch hesitantly.

Charles beamed at him. ‘So you _do_ remember,’ he said, sounding pleased. ‘I was sure that I had told you about her when I -’ he stumbled slightly – ‘when I used to come by your bar, but I couldn’t be certain. She’ll be pleased to know that I don’t forget her even when completely plastered.’

Erik gave him a quick smile and bit his tongue before he could say anything about having another source for his information; which is to say, Hank. ‘I’m not sure I know who Emma is, though,’ he said, trying to change the subject.

Charles started to smile at that, before a strangely contrite look appeared on his face. ‘Oh, Emma’s a relatively new friend,’ he said, tracing the curve of his plate with his finger, his eyes fixed on his motions instead of on Erik. ‘She’s wonderful, though. We actually used to know one another through our families before we escaped them.’

Erik frowned, something about Charles’s words sounding strangely familiar.

‘She’s wonderful, of course – though don’t tell her that I said that, she’d never let me hear the end of it – and I’m so glad we managed to reconnect. In fact – you may actually know her. She owns a club quite close to yours – you must have heard of it – it’s the _Hellfire Club_?’

It took all of Erik’s (very limited) self-control to keep from arching his back and snarling like a feral cat. ‘ _Frost_ ,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘You’re talking about _Emma Frost_.’

‘Yes!’ Charles said, beaming. The smile faded as he saw Erik’s less than pleased expression. ‘Ah. You do not get along then?’

‘No,’ Erik said shortly. ‘Not out of any true animosity,’ he conceded upon seeing Charles’s disappointed face. ‘But – I don’t know. We’re too alike, I suppose. And we’re both in the same business – we both seem to feel that the other is stealing our customers.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Charles said, waving his hand. ‘You cater to completely different sectors. Emma draws all the students and noisy young things while you have a more sedate, intellectual crowd who actually know how to appreciate good alcohol. No one’s stealing anyone’s customers.’

‘She stole _you_ ,’ Erik pointed out, his voice low.

Charles looked up at that, startled. He gave Erik a small, rather sad smile. ‘Ah my friend,’ he said softly. ‘I’m afraid that Emma herself had very little say in that matter.’

Erik grimaced, but nodded. ‘I know,’ he said, looking down morosely at his half-eaten sandwich.

‘Anyway,’ Charles said after a moment in a deliberately jaunty voice. ‘You never actually answered my question – I’m still very curious to know what exactly you and Moira said to each other. Don’t think you’re getting away with evading me _that_ easily, my friend – you’ll find that I’m not an easy man to escape!’

Erik let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘And here I was thinking that I had shaken you off,’ he said, hiding a grin.

‘I grew up with Raven, and Moira is my best friend,’ Charles said, raising his eyebrow. ‘I’ve managed to pick up a thing or two when it comes to sheer doggedness. Between the two of them I never got away with _anything_.’

‘Sounds rough,’ Erik said sympathetically. 

‘Yeah,’ Charles sighed. ‘It was. I remember I once got in at three in the morning after havin- oh no you don’t!’ he exclaimed, waggling his finger. ‘You can’t fool me with your fake sympathy. I know _exactly_ what you are doing and it won’t work. Now – tell me what Moira said.’

Erik sighed. ‘It was worth a shot,’ he said, shrugging. ‘And, for the record, the sympathy was real. If those two are anything as persistent as you are-’

‘They’re worse.’

‘Then you really do deserve my pity.’ Erik let out a breath and then sat back in his seat. ‘As for Moira – she didn’t say anything unexpected, really. Just that – that I should keep away from you.’

Charles’s face twitched at that but he didn’t give anything away. ‘Anything else?’ he asked coolly.

‘No,’ Erik shook his head. ‘Just a reminder that I’m an asshole for treating you the way I did – no, don’t make excuses, you and I both know that it’s true – and then she told me to back off so you could get on with your life,’ Erik paused, but couldn’t resist adding, ‘… with Steve.’

Charles’s face didn’t twitch this time; it appeared that he had managed to gain control over his expressions. ‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘Well, I suppose I can’t fault her for much of that …’

‘No,’ Erik agreed, even though he couldn’t say that the thought of Charles being angry at Moira wouldn’t have made him feel happier, because it did.

‘ … But that still doesn’t mean that I’m very happy with her,’ Charles said, shaking his head. ‘She means well, of course, but she _has_ to remember that I am a grown man who is fully capable of making his own decisions. I’m a _professor of genetics_ , for god’s sake, one of the best in the country! I _know_ how to look after myself!’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Erik said diplomatically. 

Charles blinked at that, before the left side of his mouth rose up in half a smile. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ he said dryly. ‘Perhaps you could make it sound a bit more patronising next time.’

‘I wasn’t being patronising,’ Erik protested. He raised an eyebrow as Charles scoffed. ‘But perhaps the fact that you _thought_ I was means that you aren’t sure of your own ability to look after yourself.’

Charles gave him a look. ‘You know, if I _wanted_ to be psychoanalysed then I could easily afford a therapist to do it,’ he huffed, but he was smiling as he said it. ‘Not to mention that I’m friends with the head of the Psychology department at the university. _And_ I’ve also got Emma to do that for me. And Raven. And Moira.’ He blinked. ‘Which brings me to the conclusion that I _really_ need some new friends.’

‘That’s why you’ve got me,’ Erik said smugly. ‘And don’t worry – that’s all the psychobabble that I’m going to spout for the day. You’re not getting any more unless you pay me for it.’

‘Suits me,’ Charles said with a grin.

Conversation continued in this manner for a good while: light and teasing and – almost miraculously, considering past events – effortlessly easy and natural.

‘So you and Alex are getting on well, then?’ Charles asked, delicately nibbling on the crust of his sandwich.

‘Strangely enough, better than ever,’ Erik answered honestly, running a hand through his hair. ‘I think – I’m quite sure – that I have _you_ to thank for that.’

‘Me?’ Charles cocked his head curiously. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘You made me realise that I wasn’t a very nice person,’ Erik said bluntly, smiling humourlessly at Charles’s surprised expression. ‘Alex has been trying to drill that into my head ever since we first met, believe me, but it really hit home that day when I – when I treated you so badly. Things have got better since then, I think – I _hope_. It’s true what they say you know – the first step to solving a problem is first admitting that you do actually _have_ a problem.’ He paused at that. ‘And okay – _that_ is the extent of today’s psychobabble from me.’

Charles laughed at that. ‘No, by all means, go ahead,’ he said flippantly, waving a hand. ‘I can’t say that I care as much when _I’m_ not the one being analysed.’

Erik smirked. Then he glanced down at his watch and frowned. ‘We ought to leave now if we want to reach the cinema in time for the film,’ he said reluctantly.

Charles gave a thoughtful hum. ‘Yes, I suppose,’ he said, stirring the dregs of his empty teacup with a silver teaspoon. ‘But then again, I would really much rather stay here and talk, wouldn’t you?’

Erik couldn’t stop his face from breaking out into a smile. His heart started to beat faster and he had to determinedly push the feeling down and remind himself that he and Charles were _friends_ and nothing else.

‘Yes,’ he said, his voice lowering a seductive decibel or two despite his best efforts to contain himself. ‘I would like that very much as well.’

Charles bit his lip and smiled – and was that a faint flush on his cheeks? ‘Well,’ Charles’s voice broke Erik’s scrutiny of his features. ‘As long as we’re here we may as well have some more tea.’

Erik rolled his eyes. ‘You and your tea,’ he said fondly. ‘You _do_ remember what I said about you not being an eighty-year-old pensioner, right?’

‘For your information, it’s not _just_ octogenarians who drink tea,’ Charles said primly. ‘And I would thank you to keep your slanderous remarks to yourself.’

‘Whatever happened to freedom of speech?’ Erik asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

‘Doesn’t apply in the case of tea-drinkers,’ Charles said with a judicious nod. ‘Or cardigans.’

After that they ordered a second round of drinks – tea for Charles and coffee for Erik – and a slice of cake each, and then they both settled down to talk once again.

‘So how are things going with – you know?’ Erik asked cautiously, feeling rather daring, as Charles stirred his tea. ‘Your – I mean – Steve?’ He knew that he really shouldn’t ask – for his own sake as well as for Charles’s comfort – but his morbid curiosity got the better of him.

Charles set down his cup of tea and looked at him. ‘You really want to know?’ he asked after a beat.

‘Yeah,’ Erik nodded quickly. ‘Yes. I want to know.’

‘Right,’ Charles gave a nod of his own in return. Then he smiled and shrugged. ‘It’s going well,’ he said. ‘Steve is – Steve is wonderful.’

Erik swallowed the bile that was threatening to leave his throat. ‘Oh,’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ Charles nodded. ‘He’s polite and considerate and sweet … and he’s so very kind …’

Erik felt his heart sinking with each word. Out of the qualities that Charles was listing, he possessed practically none of those things.

‘… And – well – he’s just kind of perfect, really.’

Erik forced himself to smile. ‘Good. That’s – good.’

Charles was watching him closely. ‘You think so?’ he asked curiously.

‘Yeah,’ Erik tried to replace the pained look that he was sure he was currently wearing with a more pleasant expression. ‘It’s … good.’

‘Right,’ Charles said doubtfully. ‘Good.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Right.’

‘Okay then.’

There was a pause.

‘So you’re together then?’ Erik forced himself to ask. Better to know it all at once than to drag the speculation out.

Charles nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, before frowning. ‘Why wouldn’t we be?’

Erik shook his head hurriedly. ‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said quickly. ‘I just … I don’t know,’ he ended lamely.

‘Hmm,’ Charles watched him for a moment. Then he shook his head. ‘So,’ he said in a firmer voice. ‘Tell me about work. How’s that going?’

Relieved at the reprieve, Erik started to tell Charles about how things were at _Genosha_.

‘…And – believe it or not – Hank’s even worked up the nerve to tell me when I’m out of line,’ he said with a short laugh. ‘He could barely _look_ at me when he first started coming by.’ He stopped when he saw Charles looking at him, his head tilted almost speculatively. ‘What?’ he asked, suddenly apprehensive.

But Charles just waved him off. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said with a small smile. ‘Carry on.’

Erik hesitated for a moment before, caught up once more in the interested look in Charles’s eyes, he continued to speak about himself. Charles was a good listener he found, something that surprised him as he had never witnessed this side of him before. Usually it was the other way around, with Erik playing the role of the patient bartender and listening to Charles’s drunken chatter. It was nice, he thought vaguely, to have someone listen to you like that, like the way that Charles was doing now. Like there was nothing else in the world that he would rather be doing.

Time passed. Erik hardly registered the dimming of the light outside, or the glow of the streetlights when they came on. He barely even blinked when Charles called for more tea and coffee twice, so caught up was he in their conversation. Charles had slowly teased out more and more information from Erik, who had quickly found himself telling Charles his entire life story. For a man who prided himself on his reserve and his secrecy regarding his private life, it was really rather remarkable; there was not a single person that Erik had ever shared this with – not Magda, and not even Alex. Right now, there was no one in the world who knew more about him than Charles, and the thought simultaneously scared and thrilled him.

It was only when the café manager gave a not-so-subtle yawn, followed by a particularly loud and dramatic cough that Erik realised that he and Charles were the only ones left in the café. He mentioned the fact to Charles, who glanced up in surprise, having also failed to notice this earlier.

‘Can it really be this late?’ Charles marvelled, looking down at his watch in astonishment.

From the look on the manager’s face, it was clear that _yes_ , it really was _that_ late.

‘We should probably get going,’ Erik said reluctantly.

‘Yes,’ Charles agreed. ‘I should probably get back home, there are some papers that need marking.’

‘ _More_ papers?’ Erik asked with a grin.

Charles sighed. ‘My friend, they never seem to stop coming,’ he said mournfully. ‘I’m learning to hate assignments almost as much as my students do.’

The manager was glaring openly at them by this point, so they hurried out of the café as quickly as was possible. They came to a stop just outside the café door and suddenly it was awkward again as shyness seemed to overcome them both.

‘Well,’ Charles said, looking down at his feet. ‘I’m _this_ way.’

‘And I’m _that_ way,’ Erik used his head to gesture in the opposite direction.

There was pause.

‘This was … fun,’ Erik said lamely at almost the same time that Charles asked:

‘So … we will do this again sometime?’

They both stopped speaking abruptly, each letting out a small chuckle when they recognised their own awkwardness in the other.

‘ _Yes_ , it was fun,’ Charles agreed, still smiling.

‘And _yes_ , we will definitely have to do this again soon – if you want to?’ Erik couldn’t help the uncertainty that leaked into his voice.

‘I want to,’ Charles said firmly, giving Erik a nod.

‘Right,’ Erik said, feeling absurdly pleased. ‘Right then. I will – I’ll call you?’

Charles raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Well,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Better late than never, I suppose.’

Erik winced, and Charles immediately apologised. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, grimacing. ‘I shouldn’t bring it up all the time, I know – I just couldn’t help it. I’m sorry, Erik. I don’t mean to be such a bore about it.’

‘It’s okay,’ Erik said with a weak smile. ‘I deserve it.’

‘Yes well,’ Charles shifted his feet. ‘Clean slate and all that. I will try to stop bringing it up, I promise.’

Erik couldn’t say that he wouldn’t feel better if that happened, so he said nothing. 

‘Well,’ Charles said. ‘Goodbye then. And yes, please do call me.’

‘I will,’ Erik said fervently. ‘Goodbye, Charles.’

They both turned to move away when Charles called him. ‘Oh, and Erik?’

Erik immediately turned back around again. ‘Yes?’ he asked.

‘Next time you want to arrange something or know where I am, please ask _me_ , yes?’

Erik blinked.

Charles watched him patiently.

‘Er, yes?’ Erik tried.

Charles smiled. ‘Good. It’s a lot more convenient that way, I find. Besides, I can’t say that I _at all_ approve of you forcing poor Hank into helping you with your stalking. The poor boy is nervous enough as it is.’

Erik froze.

‘And as for the invasion of my privacy – well, I’m sure you can imagine how very little I -’

‘What – wait – you _know_ about that?’ Erik interrupted with a sputter, shocked.

Charles paused in his sentence before raising an eyebrow. ‘Erik, I’m a leading Professor of Genetics at a highly respected university,’ he said dryly. ‘Believe it or not, I’m not _actually_ stupid.’

‘That’s – that’s not what I -’

‘There’s only so many times that you can turn up at the places I frequent or pick a random time and day that I’m free without receiving inside information. Add that to the fact that you now spend a good deal of time with Hank …’

‘…Oh.’

‘Also, catching him smuggling my diary to the photocopy room was a bit of a giveaway,’ Charles added, a wry smile pulling at his lips. Then he suddenly turned and glared at Erik, who quickly realised that Charles was now being deadly serious. ‘I will _not_ have this anymore, Erik, do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ Erik said hurriedly but was Charles already continuing.

‘I know that you are … _unused_ to the finer aspects of social intercourse, but _really_ , there is very little excuse for such blatant violations of my privacy. I have tolerated it so far, but I will not any longer.’ Charles looked sternly into Erik’s eyes.

Erik shifted guiltily, but quickly nodded his understanding.

‘As I have said,’ Charles continued, ‘I have tolerated it this far. The one thing I _cannot_ tolerate, however, is your coercion of Hank.’ Here Charles shook his head, disappointment radiating from his eyes. ‘I do not condone bullying in any shape or form from _anyone_ , Erik, let alone from the people professing to be my friends.’ He met Erik’s eyes fiercely. ‘That ends _at once_ , do you understand me?’

‘Yes,’ Erik said, looking down at his feet, chastised. He felt like he was one of Charles’s misbehaving students – no, worse; he felt like a misbehaving child in front of a disapproving adult.

Charles seemed to realise this because suddenly the stern, forbidding persona of the disapproving Professor was gone and in its place was just Charles, looking slightly sheepish.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said, smiling weakly. ‘I’m afraid I put on my “angry teacher” front there.’ He gave Erik a wry smile. ‘I’m afraid that’s something you are going to have to put up with if you want to be my friend. Raven hates it when I do that – when I get all full of ridiculous righteous indignation and start giving out lectures. She says that I have a tendency to get too high-and-mighty and self-superior and that – well, basically, that a lot of the time I can be a self-righteous, pompous ass that she would quite like to smack around the face.’

‘I wouldn’t go _that_ far,’ Erik demurred, but Charles waved him off.

‘The point is,’ he said determinedly. ‘That I have flaws – quite a lot of them. I’m far from perfect, myself, so if I give you a hard time …’ he looked down at his feet. ‘… If I do, then it’s just because I believe that you can be the better man.’

‘I already am,’ Erik said, causing Charles’s head to jerk up. Erik smiled at the expression on his face before continuing gently, ‘I’m all the better for knowing _you_.’

Charles’s face seemed to light up at that, and they both stood there for a moment, just staring at each other, a strange warmth building up between them.

Erik stood still. He didn’t want to move or speak or do anything that would disturb this odd but pleasant feeling.

Then there was an irritable cough behind them and they both jumped apart as the café manager moved away from where he had been locking up the café and, with a glare, started walking off towards his car.

Both Erik and Charles let out nervous little laughs the moment he was out of earshot.

‘Well, this is _definitely_ goodbye, then,’ Charles said, rubbing a hand to his neck.

‘Absolutely,’ Erik said, smiling, his numerous teeth glinting in the lamplight. ‘Good evening, Charles.’

‘Good evening, Erik,’ Charles replied, smiling gently before turning and slowly walking off.

Erik stayed there and watched him walk to the end of the road, before he too turned around and walked away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter this time - hopefully I will be able to update sooner next time :)
> 
> (Also, does anyone else feel desperately sorry over the state of the kink meme now? It used to be so full of amazing prompts and fills and now it's just mostly spam) :(

Erik’s glow of happiness lasted for a while, giving him pleasant dreams that night and allowing him to wake up with a smile on his face the next morning. However, by the time that he was washed and dressed and ready for work, things had taken something of a downturn.

Erik was not by nature a very self-conscious man. He may have had his moments as a boy – being a skinny foreign child with a funny accent would do that to you – but years of hard living and misfortune along with a steadily worsening temper had quickly driven that out of him. Even later, when his good looks and trim physique had drawn admiring glances instead of mocking ones, he had never paid much attention or given it any thought; he had merely taken it as his due.

Now, however, he was beginning to feel distinctly self-conscious. Yesterday he had taken it for granted that things had gone perfectly (well, _almost_ perfectly – he could have done without the scolding, to be honest); that both he and Charles had enjoyed themselves immensely and that things could only get better from there. Now, though, he was wondering if it had all just been part of his imagination … if he had somehow fooled himself into believing that things had gone well when really all he had done was make a gigantic fool of himself.

‘You’re being paranoid,’ Alex told him with a roll of his eyes when Erik reluctantly revealed his internal panic to him. ‘If you think it went well, then it went well.’

But Erik wasn’t so sure. He mentally went through everything he could remember them talking about the day before and he couldn’t help wincing.

He had talked too much. He was sure of it. He had just talked and talked and talked, and Charles had been far too polite to stop him. Yes, he decided, that was what had happened. He even thought that he recalled Charles yawning towards the end of the night. He must have bored him spectacularly. And then he had even gone and told Charles about his _childhood_. Why on earth had he done that? What must Charles now think of him? Erik himself despised sob-stories almost as much as he hated receiving pity … so what could have possibly prompted him to reveal all of _that_ to another human being? To _Charles_ of all people?

And that one joke that he had made before – it had seemed funny then, and Charles had laughed at it, but it didn’t seem at _all_ humorous now, he didn’t know _what_ had made him say something as ridiculous as that …

‘Christ,’ Alex whistled, watching as his boss came close to having what looked entirely too much like a nervous breakdown. ‘I never thought I’d say this, but you’re getting worse than _Hank_.’

That, of course, made Erik snap out of his internal panic. Straightening up, he growled and shoved the entire issue out of his head and went back to focusing on his job with renewed determination.

Unfortunately, now that he had let all these feelings of insecurity in there seemed to be no way to get rid of them. Intellectually, Erik knew that he was being foolish; he _knew_ that both he and Charles had had a good time together at lunch, and that Charles was far too earnest and too easily invested to have faked an interest in his background. It was simply that – like all private, reserved people do upon having suddenly revealed things about themselves – he was experiencing a sudden bout of anxiety that he had talked far too much and had bored Charles with his life story. It didn’t help when considering that, had someone unloaded as much onto _him_ , he would have been bored out of his mind.

Fortunately for Erik’s nerves, help arrived in the shape of Hank, who sidled into the bar that evening, book bag clutched close and spectacles pressed high up against his nose. He took a quick glance around the bar and then made a beeline straight for Erik and Alex.

‘The Professor says hi,’ was the first thing he said to Erik as he took a seat in front of the bar. ‘He says to thank you for a wonderful time last night and that he hopes that the two of you can do it again some time soon.’

Erik could not help the sigh of relief that escaped him at that and Alex nudged him gently in the side with his elbow in congratulation.

‘See,’ he said, smiling. ‘Told you that you were worrying over nothing.’

Erik nodded once in acknowledgement before turning to Hank. ‘Charles really said that?’ he asked intently, causing Hank to blink dumbly for a moment, as if surprised that Erik would ever think to question his veracity. 

‘Yes,’ Hank nodded after a brief pause. ‘He did. He seemed happy, too. Walked into class this morning with a big spring in his step.’

Erik couldn’t help grinning proudly at that. ‘Good,’ he said, giving Hank a pleased nod. ‘I’m glad. Thanks for letting me know.’

Hank looked surprised at the thanks but he nevertheless accepted it graciously. ‘No problem,’ he said, giving Erik a tentative smile.

Feeling content and at ease once more, Erik went back to work.

Thirty-five minutes later, however, Erik was distracted from his bartending duties by the vibration of his phone in his pocket. 

He frowned. No one had ever called him at work before. He didn’t have anyone _to_ call him at work. In fact, the only person who _could_ possibly be calling was …

‘Charles?’ Erik asked breathlessly, clutching his phone tightly to his ear.

He was greeted by the sound of a warm, rich laugh. ‘Yes, it’s me,’ Charles’s voice resonated clearly through the phone. Erik felt himself relax simply from hearing it. ‘I didn’t know if you were busy or not – is this a bad time?’

Erik looked from his phone to the crowd of customers waiting impatiently for a drink.

‘No, no – this isn’t a bad time,’ he lied, clicking his fingers at Alex and then jerking his head over at the line in front of the bar. Alex, who had been busy wiping down the tables, glared at him and made a rude gesture with his hand before then sighing, throwing down the damp rag he had been using and reluctantly making his way over to the front of the bar. Giving him a quick nod in thanks, Erik turned and hastily made his way out of the bar and into the privacy of the backroom.

‘You know, I really enjoyed our conversation yesterday,’ Charles was saying, oblivious to Erik’s manoeuvrings. ‘I must say, Erik, there is so much that I didn’t know about you.’

‘I hope I didn’t bore you,’ Erik said quickly, unable to keep a hint of nervousness from entering his tone.

‘Oh no, not at all!’ Charles answered immediately, sounding completely surprised by the idea. ‘You could never be boring, Erik. Especially when talking about yourself. I – I’ve always wondered about you, you know. About how you came to be the man you are. I know that this may sound strange, but I’ve always had this … _fascination_ with you, ever since I first saw you.’

Erik raised an eyebrow at that before he realised that Charles wouldn’t be able to see it. ‘I really don’t know if I am all that _fascinating_ ,’ he said doubtfully, not knowing whether he should be feeling more pleased or anxious, but Charles cut him off with a chuckle before he could decide.

‘Oh my friend, you certainly are,’ he said warmly. ‘There’s nothing I find more invigorating than picking your brain. It’s really quite stimulating – I simply never know what you are going to say next.’

‘Even now?’ Erik couldn’t help asking, feeling strangely apprehensive about the answer. ‘Even now that you’ve heard all about me? Now that you _know_ everything about me?’

‘Even now,’ Charles confirmed promptly, and Erik felt a current of warmth run through him. ‘Oh Erik, _especially_ now.’

Erik couldn’t say that he quite understood what Charles meant, but he was willing to go along with it as long as it meant that Charles found him fascinating. ‘I’m flattered,’ he said in a low voice, a smile pulling at his lips. ‘And – if you didn’t know this already – I happen to find _you_ rather fascinating too, Charles.’

‘Oh!’ there was a pause as Charles digested the compliment. When he next spoke, his voice, while teasing, also sounded pleased. ‘And so you should. I am a very fascinating person.’

‘You certainly are _unique_ ,’ Erik said dryly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Charles laughed at that. ‘Only in the best ways,’ he joked.

Erik’s smile widened almost against his will. ‘You always _were_ modest,’ he chuckled. ‘Perhaps you should add that to your list of virtues as well.’

‘I’m fine as it is, thanks,’ Charles said airily. ‘Well, that and Raven swears that she will make it her life’s mission to take a pin to my head if it swells any bigger.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with being self-confident,’ Erik immediately assured him.

‘Well, tell _her_ that!’ Erik could practically see the indignant expression that Charles was no doubt wearing. Grinning, he switched his phone to his other hand.

‘You talk about her a lot,’ he said conversationally, leaning back against the counter as he spoke. ‘Your sister, I mean. Raven.’

There was a pause.

‘Oh,’ Charles’s voice was slightly stiff. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.’

‘Oh – Charles, no,’ Erik’s tongue tripped over itself in his rush to prevent a misunderstanding. ‘I wasn’t _criticising_ you – I just … I think it’s nice. That you care so much for her, I mean.’

‘Oh,’ Charles was silent for a moment. When he next spoke, however, he sounded a great deal more at ease than before and there was more than a hint of relief in his voice. ‘That’s … I mean, yes, we are very close, she and I.’

‘That must be nice,’ Erik said rather wistfully, surprising even himself with the sentiment. ‘Having a sister that you are close to. It sounds … nice.’

‘It is,’ Charles said warmly. ‘Of course, we drive each other mad sometimes, but at the end of the day we both know that we’d do anything for each other. Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without her.’

‘You must have been very close growing up,’ Erik said with a slight smile.

‘We were.’ There was a brief pause. ‘Things … were _difficult_ at my house, growing up,’ Charles said finally, sounding strangely careful. ‘I don’t mean financially – the Xaviers have always been hideously wealthy. It was just … what I mean to say is that ours was never a very _happy_ home. Mother was never very attentive and my stepfather – well, the less said about _him_ the better. I confess, I was terribly lonely as a child. In fact, before Raven, I … well, never mind.’ He paused. ‘Let’s just say that I am _very_ glad that she came along when she did.’

‘… Oh.’ Erik honestly didn’t know what to say to that. Charles had never talked to him about his family before and Erik had never even suspected that Charles had had anything but a blessedly happy childhood. Just when he was beginning to panic over not knowing how to respond, he recalled Charles’s own reactions to Erik’s revelations of the day before and so, taking a deep breath, he calmed himself.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said sincerely, trying to inject as much feeling and honesty into his voice as was possible. ‘That you weren’t happy as a child, I mean. And I’m glad you had Raven – that you _have_ Raven. And – I’m not very good at this, I know, and this is probably not the best time, but – if you ever want to talk about it at all …’ he trailed off uncertainly, suddenly feeling hopelessly awkward and clumsy

Charles’s response, however, was almost overwhelmingly warm. ‘Thank you, my friend,’ he said affectionately, sounding genuinely fond. ‘It means a lot to me that you offered. Perhaps I will even take you up on that one day. But, as you rightly said, now is neither the time nor the place for that conversation.’

‘Right,’ Erik said, feeling not a little relieved. ‘But – I really mean it Charles. About – the talking.’

‘I know,’ Charles said softly. ‘Thank you, Erik.’

When Erik exited the backroom over half an hour later, the terrifyingly wide smile that he had worn the night before was once again plastered over his face, and his teeth were displayed in all their sharp, magnificent glory. The crowd around the bar had mostly vanished by the time he emerged and, upon seeing his toothy smile, the few customers that had still been queuing suddenly seemed to think better of it.

‘Whoa,’ Alex blinked, having turned around to see what had scared the customers away. ‘Rein that in just a little bit, dude, or people will start wondering why we’ve set a shark loose on the premises.’

Erik obligingly toned down his grin.

‘I’m guessing it went well, then?’ Alex asked with a raised eyebrow as he wiped down a glass. Hank pushed his spectacles further up his nose and moved closer in curiosity.

‘It did,’ Erik nodded in affirmation, but he wasn’t any more forthcoming than that.

‘ _And?_ ’ Alex prompted.

‘Did the Professor say anything about going out again?’ Hank enquired, sounding a lot more patient than Alex.

‘No,’ Erik shook his head. ‘Well – nothing specific, at any rate. Just that we should have lunch again sometime.’

‘Not dinner?’ Hank asked, cocking his head.

‘Not breakfast?’ Alex looked disappointed.

Erik rolled his eyes. ‘No, and _no_ ,’ he said, shaking his head. Then he narrowed his eyes. ‘Why are you two being so keen about this? Last time we talked, you couldn’t tell me enough about how my lunch meeting with Charles was _not_ , in fact, a date.’

Both Alex and Hank glanced away shiftily.

Erik raised an eyebrow.

Alex caved.

‘It’s just that … you’re so _nice_ now,’ he said, widening his eyes and waving his arms about exaggeratedly. ‘You’re not shouting as much as you used to, you’re not glaring at anyone, you’re actually _smiling_ … granted, your smile makes you look like a serial killer and all, but hey – it’s _progress_ , right?’

‘The Professor seems happier too,’ Hank agreed, nodding seriously. ‘Not that he was _sad_ before, or anything. But still – he’s different.’

‘And it’s just like – if this is the way things are when you guys are just _friends_ , imagine what they’ll be like when you actually get _laid_!’

Erik blinked. He slowly turned to look from Hank’s earnest expression to Alex’s slightly-crazed, gleeful one.

‘I think I’ll start wiping down the tables now,’ he said, before turning and walking away from them.

Alex and Hank blinked, uncomprehending, and silently watched him leave.

‘Do you ever sometimes think that we are _way_ too invested in Erik’s love life?’ Alex asked after a moment.

‘Oh yeah,’ Hank replied immediately. ‘ _Constantly._ ’

They watched in silence for a moment longer.

‘We should really get laid,’ Alex said with a sigh.

Hank honestly couldn’t help but agree.


	11. Chapter 11

_Interlude: Emma and Charles_

 

‘So let me get this straight.’

Charles winced and sank down in his seat. He knew from previous experience (Emma coming, as she did, from a very long line of terrifying female friends) that with the words ‘so let me get this straight’ came the cringe-inducing prospect of either mockery on her part or mortification on his; or, if he was particularly unlucky – as was the case 99.9% of the time – both.

He sighed resignedly before deliberately glancing up at Emma with a determinedly winsome expression, hoping that his air of charming, wide-eyed innocence would be enough to derail Emma from what was undoubtedly a plan to embarrass the hell out of him.

Emma, unfortunately, was made of sterner stuff than he had anticipated. She simply narrowed her eyes and raised an eyebrow in a way that seemed to say _don’t bat your bambi eyes at me, sugar_ while at the same time adding _nice try, Xavier_ and mixing it in with the tiniest hint of _bitch, please_. Or he may just be imagining the last one. Knowing Emma, though, he probably wasn’t.

‘So let me get this straight,’ Emma said again, disdain dripping from her every word. ‘You spend every Friday night for _months_ on end mooning after this mysterious handsome barman -’

‘I would hardly call it _mooning_ ,’ Charles interjected, frowning.

Emma ignored him. ‘You spend months _mooning_ after him,’ she repeated, stressing the word pointedly. ‘Even after having yourself admitted that the guy could sometimes come across as – and I quote – “a bad-tempered, rude, misanthropic bastard” –’ Emma imitated his accent here with great deal of panache, something that she really seemed to do an awful lot of. Charles wasn’t sure whether it was because she spent so much time mocking him or because she simply enjoyed putting on a good, crisp English accent. ‘- before you finally, _finally_ sleep with the man and have “frankly _mind-blowing_ ” sex – again, I’m quoting here – only for him to turn into a complete snake the next day, sneaking off before you wake up and then completely ignoring you – _rudely_ ignoring you, I might add – when you see him next, and sending his mindless little drone to send you off and tell you to never come back, in _spite_ of the fact that the two of you used to be friends. Tell me, is that or is that not correct?’

Charles pretended to consider for a moment. ‘Well I can’t say I _completely_ agree with it,’ he said at last. ‘I mean, Alex is _hardly_ a mindless-’

‘Charles, the boy stops by _Hellfire_ every weekend seemingly for the sole purpose of staring at my breasts,’ Emma said flatly, clearly unimpressed with Charles’s efforts to avoid the question. ‘As far as I’m concerned, he’s mindless.’

Charles snorted at that, unable to hide a smile. ‘Well, they _are_ rather magnificent,’ he said, trying to cover his grin by bringing his teacup to his mouth. He gave Emma’s chest an admiring nod, which seemed to please her.

‘Aren’t they just?’ she purred, before setting her cup down and getting back to business. ‘But – much as I enjoy listening to your sweet nothings, sugar – I _do_ recall asking you a little question.’ At Charles’s disappointed look she allowed herself a smirk. ‘You really shouldn’t try to charm and flatter your way out of this one, sweetness; you won’t succeed. I’m far too interested in your answer to be swayed by even your honeyed tongue. So I’ll ask you again: your little adventure with your bit-of-rough barman. Was that or was that not what happened?’

‘Well …’ Charles glanced away shiftily.

‘Answer the question, Charles,’ Emma said without missing a beat.

Charles sighed. Casting a rueful look at Emma, he slumped down in his seat, resigned. ‘Well yes, then, I suppose it was,’ he grumbled, looking down at his teacup unhappily. ‘There – I said it. Are you satisfied?’

Emma ignored him and simply closed her eyes instead, letting out a breath as if forcibly trying to calm herself. The technique apparently failed to work as in the next moment she had bolted upright in her chair, her eyes flashing and her fingernails digging viciously into the chair’s arms as she glared at him. ‘Satisfied?’ she repeated icily. ‘You think I am _satisfied_? When you’ve told me that now – after all that, after the way that he treated you – you still want to go back to being _friends_ with this man?’ Her mouth was drawn up into a tight, angry line and her fierce gaze pierced and held Charles, who couldn’t help squirming under the intense scrutiny.

‘I know you don’t approve,’ he said in a quiet voice, forcing himself to meet her eyes steadily. ‘And that you think that he’s a terrible person and that this is a bad idea …’ He paused then and glanced away, as if needing a moment to take stock and remind himself why he was so set upon this plan. When he turned back, however, his expression was full of resolve and his eyes were earnest and filled with conviction. ‘But I can’t see it like that, Emma. I know what he did was bad, but – but now _he_ knows it too, and that makes _all_ the difference. Not only is he now asking for my friendship but he is also asking for a chance to _redeem_ himself – and not only in my eyes, but in the eyes of others. He _wants_ to be a better man, Emma. And I – I cannot in good conscience refuse him the chance to discover that part of himself, no matter what my personal feelings regarding his behaviour towards me may be.’

Emma was silent for a long time after this speech. Then, after a moment, she sighed and set her cup of triple shot espresso down on the table. ‘Darling, why do you allow these things to happen to you?’ she murmured almost tenderly, looking simultaneously amused and exasperated. A moment later she shook her head and straightened up, once more the mistress of her again-impassive exterior. ‘Can I give my opinion now?’ She rolled her eyes at Charles’s shake of his head. ‘Well here it is anyway. _Of course_ I think that this is a bad idea. Even _you_ think that it is. You _know_ what the man is like. No, scratch that – _everyone_ knows what the man is like! He’s _Erik I’m-a-bastard Lehnsherr_ , that’s who he _is_ , Charles, not some bird with a broken wing that you can fix.’

Charles winced. ‘I know,’ he said, still looking down at his feet.

‘You don’t want to be friends with the man, Charles,’ Emma said firmly. ‘Apart from the fact that he already hurt you, the man’s about as socially attractive as a rabid bat.’ She sniffed. ‘And yet, inexplicably, at the same time he somehow manages to be one of the biggest manwhores this side of town – don’t ask me how.’

‘Aside from me, you mean?’ Charles added wryly, remembering how fond Emma used to be of teasing him for his proclivities back in the day, before he was a respectable genetics professor and she a respected nightclub owner.

Emma, derailed from her condemnation of Lehnsherr, couldn’t help quirking a smile at that. She reached over and patted Charles’s hand fondly. ‘Don’t be silly, darling,’ she reassured him. ‘You’ve matured with age. Besides, you were never so much a manwhore as you were … charmingly enthusiastic.’

‘Charmingly … enthusiastic,’ Charles repeated, suspicious.

Emma smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said, one side of her lips sliding up in a cool smirk. ‘Rather like one of those cute little puppies that run around after everything.’

‘A puppy,’ Charles repeated. He didn’t sound terribly impressed with the idea.

Emma gave him a reproachful look. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being a puppy, Charles,’ she soothed, patting his hand. ‘They’re such precious little things, after all. Everybody loves them.’

‘I’m not sure whether to be flattered or to fear for my masculinity,’ Charles said dryly.

Emma gave him another Look. ‘Men worry far too much about their masculinity,’ she said, sniffing disdainfully. ‘It’s one of their main defects.’

‘The feminist in you is never too far from the surface, Emma,’ Charles murmured, unable to keep himself from smiling.

‘Well, one has to always stick up for – oh no you don’t, you little rat!’ Emma’s eyes suddenly narrowed. ‘You can’t get me off track _that_ easily. Nice try, though.’

Charles sighed. ‘It was worth a shot,’ he said, shrugging. ‘And I almost had you there.’

‘Hmm,’ Emma’s lips twitched. ‘Anyway – Lehnsherr. Talk to me. Tell me more about him. Is he still following you around? Because you know darling, if he’s a bother, I know someone who knows someone who will-’

‘Absolutely _not_ , Emma,’ Charles said flatly.

Emma sighed. ‘You’re no fun,’ she said sadly, leaning back in her chair.

‘And _you_ are better than that.’

Emma stared at Charles for a moment before her face softened and she smiled. ‘Perhaps I am,’ she said quietly. ‘Now, tell me about Lehnsherr. Is he still stalking you?’

Charles squirmed in his seat. Emma’s eyes tracked the motion and they immediately narrowed. There was information to be had here, and from the way Charles was acting, she wasn’t going to like it.

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that he’s _stalking_ me any more …’

Emma raised one well-plucked eyebrow at him. ‘Spill, Xavier.’

‘I _may_ have held a little back from you before ...’

‘Charles …’ Emma said warningly.

‘You see, I-’

‘Oh my god,’ Emma’s eyes were round. ‘You little _sneak_ , you’ve already patched things up with him!’

Charles opened his mouth soundlessly a few times, before swallowing and trying for a weak little smile. ‘Er – surprise?’

‘Charles,’ Emma was outright glaring now and Charles was under no illusions that she was anything but thoroughly annoyed with him. ‘What on earth were you _thinking_? The man treated you like _dirt_!’

Charles sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He should have known that no one would understand. ‘We’ve been through this,’ he said, unable to suppress his impatience. ‘And – honestly? I was thinking that we should all try and find it within ourselves to pardon those who truly desire forgiveness.’ He ran a tired hand through his hair before continuing in a quieter voice. ‘And it is my sincere belief that Erik _is_ truly sorry about the way he treated me.’

Emma didn’t look the least bit convinced. ‘He has reason to be sorry,’ she said shortly. ‘And really, sugar, you almost sound as if you should be standing at the pulpit talking about how you should always turn the other cheek.’ Her lip curled. ‘I got enough of that when I got sent off to Catholic school, I don’t need it from you too.’

‘Sorry,’ Charles said, not sounding the least bit repentant. ‘And yes, I know it sounded a bit too Sunday school and all that, but Emma – I honestly do believe what I said. What I’ve been _saying_. That people are better than they think – that they deserve second chances.’

Emma was giving him that odd look again. ‘Sometimes,’ she said slowly. ‘I honestly wonder why I am friends with you. Normally I can’t stand the goody-two-shoes type – and yet …’ she trailed off.

‘Oh, I can answer that for you,’ Charles said, suddenly quirking a grin and waving a casual hand. ‘It’s because of my dashing good looks, my charming personality, and my superb proficiency in bed. Am I right?’

Emma couldn’t suppress the snort that left her. ‘You’re right,’ she said, rolling her eyes but smiling at the same time. ‘That actually _does_ remind me of why I am friends with you. Your ego is almost as big as _mine_.’

‘Darling, there’s nothing wrong with having a big ego as long as you can justify it,’ Charles drawled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He cocked his head at her. ‘And believe me, we can _both_ justify it.’

Emma shook her head in amusement. ‘I can’t believe you’re the same person who was just sitting here moments ago, preaching about forgiveness and friendship and unicorns,’ she said, her blonde tresses falling fetchingly over her shoulders. Then she grimaced. ‘I still don’t see how you can do it though. If anyone ever treated me the way that he treated you …’

Charles shook his head. ‘You should have seen him though, Emma,’ he said, the side of his mouth lifting up in fond amusement. ‘He was so very _earnest_ about it. Following me about, trying to find out my schedule, planning carefully-orchestrated ‘accidental’ run-ins …’ He smiled. ‘It was … rather charming, really.’

Emma looked highly sceptical. ‘Still sounds like stalking to me,’ she sniffed. Then she cocked her head, eyeing Charles speculatively. ‘Does Raven know about this?’ she demanded.

Charles’s smile faltered. ‘Um…’ he said.

That was all the confirmation Emma needed. ‘That’s a “no” then,’ she said dryly. ‘What about Moira?’

‘Moira knows,’ Charles said quickly. ‘She found out the other day when Erik came to pick me up from the uni-’ he suddenly stopped, but not before Emma’s eyes narrowed.

‘When Erik came to _what_?’ she asked in a dangerous voice.

Charles fidgeted. ‘It’s nothing darling, don’t worry abou-’

‘ _Charles_.’

‘We went to lunch,’ Charles answered reluctantly. ‘We went to lunch and we had a very nice time together and it was fun. Yes,’ he said, nodding, gaining confidence. ‘We had a nice time.’

Emma was looking at him as if he was mad. 

‘What?’ Charles asked defensively. ‘Friends go to lunch all the time! _We’re_ doing it now!’

‘There’s a _difference_ , Charles,’ Emma said exasperatedly. ‘ _We_ don’t have-’ She paused suddenly, as if struck by something. She turned to Charles, her eyes wide. ‘Oh God, Charles, tell me that you don’t still _like_ him.’

Charles flushed a bright red.

Emma groaned. ‘ _Charles!_ ’ She rubbed at her forehead tiredly. ‘That’s it, I’m telling Raven.’

Charles almost choked on his tea. ‘What? No!’

‘She has to know, Charles,’ Emma said determinedly, taking out her phone and scrolling through the contacts. ‘Maybe _she_ will be able to talk you out of this madness.’

‘Emma,’ Charles reached over and placed a hand over Emma’s phone. ‘Emma, you know what she’s like. She’ll fly all the way over from Paris if you tell her.’

‘Precisely,’ Emma said crisply.

‘Emma, _no_.’ The firmness in Charles’s tone made her look up. Charles had a very serious, determined expression on his face. ‘Emma, I will not allow you to interrupt her life and guilt her into coming back here for no reason – and I know her: she will feel obligated to.’

‘You don’t know th-’ Emma began but Charles shook his head, interrupting her.

‘Raven and I have looked after each other our whole lives,’ he said grimly. ‘And she would feel that it was necessary to abandon her classes and her life just to make sure that I was okay. Do you know how long it took for me to convince her that it was all right for her to leave the country and follow her dreams?’ He shook his head. ‘I won’t allow you to call her or tell her any of this. I promise you, Emma, if you go against me on this then I will never forgive you for it.’

There was a moment of silence.

‘Huh,’ Emma said. Slowly, deliberately, she closed her phone and put it away. ‘That was … unexpected.’

‘Yes well,’ Charles said, suddenly embarrassed. ‘Sorry about that, love. Raven and I are very protective of each other. But honestly, you would be worrying her for no reason.’ He stared up at Emma with wide, guileless blue eyes. ‘Erik and I are just friends. I genuinely believe that he deserved another chance, and – he’s had such a hard life, Emma, you don’t know – but I feel that if I hadn’t given him that, then I would have denied him the chance to hope – to see that he doesn’t always have to be so defensive and cold … to see that there is so much more to him than just his rage.’

‘Your faith in humanity makes me want to vomit,’ Emma said, rolling her eyes. She sighed. ‘See, this is why I hate all this “earnest and wide-eyed with hope” business. There’s simply no way to say anything negative without crushing you completely.’

Charles let out a chuckle. ‘Don’t worry, I can take it,’ he laughed. ‘On behalf of all the earnest and wide-eyed types, give it your best shot.’

Emma rolled her eyes. ‘You take the fun out of everything,’ she sighed. She then frowned and looked down at her teacup. ‘But what I don’t understand is why you – you _personally_ , all ideology aside – why you would risk starting this again when you know what kind of a person he is. I know Lehnsherr, Charles, and I have always been thought to be a good judge of character – you’ve said so yourself. He’s not _good_ , Charles. He’s mean and selfish and he’s the complete opposite of everything you are. He’s already hurt you once – why risk it again?’

Charles didn’t reply immediately. He took a long sip of his tea as he considered the question. ‘You’re right,’ he said at last. ‘You _are_ a good judge of character. And you were right on the other count as well – Erik _is_ rather mean and selfish. Or, at the very least, he was.’ He paused, before continuing slowly, choosing his words with care. ‘You see, Emma, you _are_ good at reading people – there is no doubting that. But your problem is that … well, the truth is that you are quite a pessimistic person at heart. When you look at someone you see all that they are capable of and the numerous ways in which they can disappoint you.’ He paused and took another sip of his tea. ‘I, on the other hand – when I look at a person I don’t just judge them on what they _are_ ; I judge them on what they could _be_. There is a lot of good in people, Emma – it just takes a while to see it. I have seen that goodness in Erik and I believe that, with my help, he may be able to become the person that he was meant to be, had he not encountered all that he has in his life.’

Neither of them spoke for a while after this speech. Emma looked like she badly wanted to make a cutting and sarcastic remark but something – perhaps a lone grain of truth in Charles’s words – prevented her from doing so. After a moment, she shrugged a careless shoulder and leaned back in her chair.

‘I suppose that’s one way of explaining it,’ she sighed, closing her eyes. ‘Another way would be to say that you are either hopelessly naïve or terribly stupid. Or perhaps a mixture of the two. I don’t know Charles,’ she shook her head. ‘Everything inside me is telling me that this is a bad idea, but then – what do I know? There always seems to be some sort of loophole whenever you’re involved so perhaps you know best. Besides,’ she added, her voice dry. ‘It’s not as if I can talk. I remember that Moira wasn’t too keen on me when you and I first reconnected. Apparently she didn’t think that I was all that much of a good influence on you.’

‘Whatever made her think that, I wonder,’ Charles murmured, hiding a smile.

Emma ignored him. ‘So maybe I’m being unfair,’ she continued, as if Charles hadn’t spoken. ‘Maybe I’m trying to deny him the same chance that you gave me. However,’ here her eyes sparked. ‘ _However_ , no one can say that I _ever_ did anything to hurt you the way that he did.’

‘No,’ Charles agreed, his expression solemn. ‘You haven’t.’

Emma nodded, seeming strangely reassured by Charles’s agreement. ‘Then I suppose it’s your call, sugar,’ she said, glancing away. ‘You’re far too stubborn to let any one of us stop you from doing what you believe is right. All I can do is warn you.’ She paused, cocking her head, considering. ‘Incidentally, what does Steve have to say about all this?’

‘Steve?’ Charles blinked at her.

Emma rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, _Steve_ ,’ she drawled. ‘You know – big, blond hunk of all-American goodness? The guy you are, for all intents and purposes, _dating_?’

‘Yes, I know who _Steve_ is,’ Charles said snippily. ‘What about him?’

‘What does he think of your deal with Lehnsherr?’

‘Hmm? Oh that. Yes, well … he doesn’t exactly know.’

Emma’s eyes narrowed.

Charles chose a spot just over Emma’s shoulder to gaze at in fascination.

After a moment, Emma shook her head and sighed. ‘Oh Charles,’ she said, almost sadly. ‘You really are an idiot.’

Charles politely ignored her and settled on drinking some more of his tea.

There was a pause before Emma pulled out her phone and began scrolling through it.

‘What are you doing?’ Charles asked curiously, unable to prevent himself from asking.

‘Texting Moira,’ was the short reply.

‘What for?’ 

‘Oh, nothing,’ Emma said airily.

Charles was immediately suspicious. ‘Emma …’ he said warningly.

‘Oh fine,’ Emma said, not sounding in the least bit put out. ‘I’m texting Moira to ask whether she would be interested in starting a betting pool.’

‘A betting pool?’ Charles frowned. ‘On what, exactly?’

Emma reached over and patted his hand. ‘Never you mind, darling,’ she said, before going back to her phone.

Charles sighed. ‘You’re betting on how long it takes for everything to implode on me, aren’t you?’ he asked dryly.

‘I _knew_ you’d understand, sugar,’ the corner of Emma’s lips tugged up in a smile.

Charles sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

Emma was right, he decided. Maybe he really _did_ have to re-evaluate his choice of friends.

But, as Emma let out a cackle in response to a message she had received on her phone, Charles found that he really couldn’t bring himself to mind that much.

Smiling, he calmly crossed his legs and took another sip of tea.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter!

A month went by, and then two. Despite a rather rocky start, Erik found that he and Charles were slowly growing closer to each other, and indeed, they now talked almost every other night, either in person or over the phone. Far from growing tired of spending so much time with another person (as he had often imagined would be the case) Erik instead found himself frequently longing for the hours of the day to pass more quickly purely out of a desire to see or talk to Charles, and was often at a loss at what to do with himself when not around him. Alex and Hank were exceedingly accommodating at such times, and would wordlessly take charge of the bar when Erik felt the need to go into the backroom and silently stare in consternation at his own face in the mirror. He was coming to realise, as he stared into the eyes that now glinted with something like warmth and anticipation, that he hardly recognised the man in front of him.

He said as much to Alex and Hank one morning, attempting to pass the comment off as something casual and unimportant.

Alex immediately let out a loud snort at his words. ‘Yeah,’ he huffed in satisfaction, giving the beer glass in his hands an extra strong polish. ‘And good fucking riddance too!’

Erik blinked, surprised by his response. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked suspiciously, folding his arms across his chest.

Alex glanced up at him, a throwaway comment right on the tip of his tongue, before pausing at the sight of Erik’s expression. He regarded him carefully for a moment before shrugging and slowly lowering the glass down to the table. ‘I mean,’ he said, sounding vaguely unconcerned. ‘That we kinda prefer you the way you are now.’

Erik’s eyebrow rose at that. ‘Oh?’ he said neutrally.

‘Yeah,’ Alex nodded. He looked up at Erik and smiled crookedly. ‘You’re _okay_ now.’ He then made to give Erik a friendly punch in the shoulder but one look at Erik’s quirked eyebrow quickly persuaded him that this was perhaps not a good idea. 

‘I’m _okay_ now …’ Erik repeated slowly, looking rather nonplussed by the statement. Then he narrowed his eyes. ‘And what, may I ask,’ he all but purred, ‘Was wrong with me _before_?’

Alex suddenly found the fingernails on his left hand incredibly fascinating and began to devote his full attention to them, studiously avoiding Erik’s eyes in the process.

Hank just shrugged when Erik turned to him instead. ‘Just – you know,’ he said carefully. ‘There was nothing _wrong_ with you _per se_ … It was merely that – well, the best way to put is – It’s just …. You were kind of –’

‘An epic douche,’ Alex finished helpfully, looking up from where he’d finally grown tired of his examination of his fingernails. ‘Seriously,’ he said gravely as Erik stared at him. ‘ _Epic_.’

Erik scowled at Hank’s sheepish nod of agreement, feeling strangely defensive and annoyed by this unflattering assessment. ‘Are you two finishing each other’s sentences now?’ he sneered meanly, trying to deflect the attention away from himself. ‘Not that I’m surprised, but _Christ_ , just _screw_ each other already.’

Hank blinked, startled by his words, before flushing red to the roots of his hair and hunching over, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

Even Alex, who by now was almost immune to Erik’s taunts, looked slightly embarrassed. Nevertheless, he rallied quickly. ‘Let me rewind what I just said,’ he muttered, grimacing. ‘You’re _still_ an epic douche.’

Erik opened his mouth to retort, but then paused for a moment before shrugging. ‘Yeah,’ he said nonchalantly, putting his hands in his pockets. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

And then, apparently satisfied with that pronouncement, he gave them a nod and went back to setting up the bar.

Hank and Alex traded a look.

‘He’s getting better!’ Alex said hastily, giving Hank a weak smile.

Hank raised an eyebrow.

Alex winced. ‘Well – sort of,’ he mumbled, shuffling his feet.

Hank simply rolled his eyes and, giving Alex a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, followed Erik into the backroom.

Some arguments, after all, were just pointless.

**…**

As time passed and Erik and Charles continued to spend a great deal of time together, Erik gradually came to notice one thing: they could talk all day about every single subject under the sky but not once – not _once_ – did Charles ever, _ever_ talk about Steve. Consequently, Erik never talked about _his_ love-life either. (Not that he actually had one. Not unless one counted his … whatever-this-was with Charles, but Erik had the feeling that Charles sadly did not see their relationship in _quite_ the same way that he did.)

While he was well aware of the fact that being denied something only made the forbidden object appear all the more attractive, knowing this had never done anything to stem his desire for the object in question. It hadn’t worked when he had been a five-year-old boy eyeing the chocolate bar forbidden to him in the supermarket and it certainly hadn’t stopped him from wanting Charles, even though he had now come to accept that – for now at least – Charles was Off-Limits. 

Information, however, was another matter entirely.

A normal person might have brought up the subject in casual conversation or might have otherwise asked about it directly, but this, unfortunately, was Erik, and Erik didn’t do things the normal way – as Alex, and now Hank and even Charles could attest. So it was only natural that, upon realising that Charles was keeping mum about Steve, Erik decided that it was time to take matters into his own hands and investigate.

Naturally, Erik being, for want of a better word, _Erik_ , this meant that he immediately turned to Alex and Hank to do all the dirty work for him.

‘What do you mean, _spy on him_?’ Alex burst out, annoyed, even as Hank gave a groan of dismay. ‘And, seriously Erik? Honestly, man, I thought you were _over_ this shit! You _promised_.’

Erik scowled but refused to let himself feel contrite. ‘Stop whining,’ he growled half-heartedly, shoving his hands into his pockets and glaring. ‘It’s not like I’m asking you to do anything _wrong_.’

Alex’s eyes narrowed. ‘You want me to _spy_ on Charles,’ he said accusingly, folding his arms over his chest and looking highly disapproving. ‘You want me to go digging up dirt on him. How is that not _wrong_?’

Erik let out a sigh of impatience. ‘Not _Charles_ ,’ he said, exasperated. ‘ _Steve_. Charles’s _boyfriend_ Steve. There’s a difference.’

‘Oh, because stalking _Steve_ makes it _so_ much better!’ Alex sneered.

‘I’m not asking you to _stalk_ him-’ 

‘Yeah, because that’s _your_ job!’

‘I’m simply asking you to go to _Hellfire_ just like you _always_ do and _then_ report back to me on what happens! That’s not stalking, it’s just being observant!’

‘Then do it yourself!’ Alex retorted, sticking his chin out challengingly. ‘Go on. It’s not hard. Like you said – all you have to do is just _walk_ in there.’

Erik folded his arms and glared at Alex. ‘You know I can’t,’ he gritted out, his hands clenching tightly. ‘You know I _won’t_.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Alex challenged recklessly. ‘Why not?’

Erik’s eyes narrowed. ‘You know perfectly well _why_ ,’ he said stiffly.

‘But it’s fucking _stupid_!’ Alex burst out, torn between sympathy and frustration. ‘It’s completely _dumb_. The place is nothing like it used to be! Shaw’s _gone_ , man. And Charles – _Charles_ is there! Come on, you can’t tell me that Charles doesn’t trump your dumb-ass self-imposed rules, right?’

‘This has _nothing_ to do with Charles!’ Erik snapped, causing Alex to take a sensible step backwards.

‘Um,’ Hank said, avoiding Erik’s eyes. ‘It sort of does, actually.’

Erik immediately turned his snarl on Hank, who swiftly backed down and went back to staring at the bottom of his glass in fascination. This, however, was enough to bring Erik back to himself.

‘Look,’ he said, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to keep calm. ‘I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t necessary-’

‘Yeah you would,’ Alex interrupted. ‘And more to the point, you _are_.’

‘He’s right,’ Hank said apologetically. ‘You really should just _ask_ Charles, you know.’

‘Or better yet,’ Alex said. ‘Just leave it alone. Leave _them_ alone. Charles isn’t bringing Steve up for a reason. Deal with it.’

Erik scowled at them. ‘I thought you were on my side about this,’ he grumbled unhappily.

‘I was,’ Alex said bluntly, shrugging. ‘But it’s been _months_ man, and you _still_ haven’t made a move. I’m sorry dude, but I’m pretty sure that you’re stuck firmly in the Friend Zone now.’

There was a pause.

Erik’s eye twitched. ‘ _Friend zone_ ,’ he repeated dangerously, causing both Alex and Hank to fidget. ‘What do you mean, _friend zone_?’

Hank and Alex exchanged a look and swallowed. Alex once again chose this moment to find his fingernails extremely interesting, leaving it up to Hank to explain.

‘Erm,’ Hank said uneasily, swallowing. ‘I can’t be _sure_ , but – from my research into the social and behavioural responses of human males and females towards prospective mates, there appears to be two distinct outcomes of waiting and – er – not “pressing one’s suit” as it were, with one’s partner of choice.’ At Erik’s raised eyebrow, Hank hastily continued. ‘In the first scenario, the subject, through prolonged association with the “friend” in question, realises that he or she possesses all the favourable qualities that they find desirable in a potential mate, which alters the relationship from being a purely platonic one to a – well-’

‘A sexual one,’ Alex suggested helpfully, listening to Hank with what appeared to be great interest.

Hank blushed. ‘A _romantic_ one,’ he said emphatically.

Erik refrained from rolling his eyes and cleared his throat instead. ‘And the second scenario?’ he asked impatiently.

‘Oh. Yes.’ Hank quickly took off his glasses and hurriedly wiped the lenses with the tails of his shirt before putting them back on. ‘In the second scenario, the subject realises that the other person possesses all the favourable qualities and attributes found in the most desirable of friends and, judging the relationship between them to be completely platonic, relegates said friend into a purely imaginary but nonetheless mostly inescapable mental category that is popularly called, as Alex said, the “Friend Zone”. Once placed in said group, the friend is immediately dismissed as a viable sexual or, er – _romantic_ – candidate, and having them thus quantified, the subject feels free to move on and look for a more compatible mate.’

Both Erik and Alex stared.

Alex was the first to speak. ‘Dude,’ he said, his eyes wide with awe. ‘You got all this from watching _chick-flicks_?’

‘Er – I believe that daytime soap operas also had a part to play with this particular research sample,’ Hank said sheepishly, straightening his glasses.

‘One moment,’ Erik interrupted, his face expressionless and his voice calm. Hank and Alex immediately went on guard. ‘Are you telling me that _I_ am now in this so-called “friend zone”?’

Alex shrugged, showcasing more than a little bravado. ‘Sorry man,’ he said apologetically. 

‘And that the _reason_ that I am in that zone,’ Erik continued as if Alex had not spoken, his voice becoming even silkier as we went on. ‘Is because I, instead of “pressing my suit” early on, moved slowly and steadily so as to first become Charles’s _friend_ …’

‘Er-’ Alex said carefully, sure that there was a trap that he was about to fall into somewhere in there. ‘I guess. I mean you’re totally forgetting about Steve, but sure. Whatever. So – yeah?’ He tried for a weak smile but this, along with everything else that Alex had said, was completely ignored. 

‘… And the _reason_ that I moved as slowly as I did,’ Erik continued smoothly, ‘was because the two of _you_ -’ and suddenly his face was no longer blank but thunderous, and was pointed in the direction of both Hank and Alex – ‘ _told_ me that that was what I should do!’

‘Now hold on-’ Alex protested as Hank let out a moan of despair.

‘And so I,’ Erik continued, his voice growing colder by the second. ‘Foolishly expecting your advice to be _superior_ to my own plans, ignored my instincts and my better judgement, only to end up in the bloody friend zone!’

‘You can’t blame that on us!’ Alex objected, before ducking his head as if in expectation of a blow.

‘Just tell us one thing,’ Hank said quietly, causing Erik to turn to him from where he had been glaring at Alex. ‘Do you regret becoming Charles’s friend?’

Erik stilled. 

‘Do you honestly regret the relationship that you have with him now?’ Hank asked, his voice gentle. 

At that Erik lost his ire. ‘No,’ he said tiredly. ‘No, of course not. I – apologise. I shouldn’t have accused you of sabotaging me. Obviously I do that well enough on my own.’ He let out a dry, humourless laugh. Then, taking a deep breath, he continued. ‘And you’re right – I don’t regret the friendship I have with Charles. Even if that is all that I get from him for the rest of my life, it will still be more than I deserve.’

Both Hank and Alex relaxed at that. They looked at Erik with approving smiles.

‘However-’

The smiles slid off their faces.

‘However,’ Erik repeated. ‘If there is the _slightest_ chance that Charles and I could be something more-’ he swallowed. ‘Then I have to take it. If we can do it – if _I_ can be the one to make him happy, even after all this – shouldn’t I try?’

The other two squirmed slightly.

‘I guess,’ Alex said at last.

‘Yes, if you put it like that,’ Hank sighed.

‘Good,’ Erik’s earnest expression suddenly slid into a tooth-baring, shark-like smile. ‘Then you will investigate Steve for me, yes?’

Hank groaned and Alex allowed his head to hit the table. ‘Not this again!’ he moaned.

‘I’m sitting this one out,’ Hank said fervently. ‘I’ve done enough spying to last a life time. And even otherwise I’m pretty sure the Professor would suspect something the moment I started …’

‘Blushing and stammering like a girl?’ Alex said dryly.

Hank winced but nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he muttered. ‘That.’

Erik considered that for a second, before nodding and then turning to Alex expectantly.

‘What?’ Alex glared, before crumbling under the pressure of Erik’s steady stare. ‘Oh man, really?’

‘Please,’ Erik said, his gaze unwavering. And although he did not sound the least bit suppliant, his eyes told a somewhat different story.

‘Ugh,’ Alex said, turning away and shaking his head. ‘Why couldn’t you go back to being an asshole?’ he whined. ‘I find it so much easier to say no to you when you’re being an asshole.’

Erik allowed himself a smirk. ‘Does that mean you’ll do it?’ he asked.

‘Oh … fine,’ Alex snapped, crossing his arms and scowling. ‘I’ll do it. I’ll do your damn spying shit for you but you owe me freaking _big_ time!’

‘I’ll give you Fridays off,’ Erik said at once, smiling.

Alex’s mouth immediately split into a smile of delight before he paused, thought for a moment, and then scowled. ‘This is only so I can spend more time at _Hellfire_ spying on Charles, isn’t it?’ he asked grumpily.

Erik grinned sharply. ‘As if I would be so underhanded,’ he murmured. ‘Also – just to clarify – you’d be spying on _Steve_ , not Charles.’

‘Right,’ Alex said darkly. ‘Because that’s _so_ much different.’

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘If you truly believe that’s the case then do us all a favour and never join the Intelligence community,’ he said dryly, before walking away.

The others stared after him.

‘Don’t you just hate it when he does that?’ Alex muttered.

Hank shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said thoughtfully, trying to suppress a smile. ‘It kind of grows on you.’

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘Bozo,’ he muttered, before he too turned around and walked off.

Hank watched him go. Then he shrugged. ‘He likes me really,’ he said to nobody in particular, before quickly getting off his seat and following Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely new material starts with the next chapter! :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New material, yay! Enjoy :)

Erik was already there waiting bright and early by the time that Alex arrived at _Genosha_ on Saturday, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was Alex’s turn to set up the bar. He was, however, gracious enough to wait until Alex had put the coffee on and filled up a cup for himself before starting to assail him with questions.

‘Well?’ Erik demanded, jiggling his knee impatiently as Alex made his way over. ‘What did you find out?’

Alex held up a finger, refusing to say a word until he had sat down and taken a deep sip from his cup. ‘Ahh,’ he said in a blissful, satisfied tone, at last drawing away from it. ‘That’s the stuff.’ He then turned and blinked innocently at Erik. ‘Did you want something?’

Erik scowled. ‘Stop fooling around,’ he grumbled. ‘You know what I want to hear. Just tell me already.’

Alex sighed at that and set down his cup. ‘ _Fine_ ,’ he said with a mild sense of resignation. ‘Okay then. Here we go.’ He turned to face Erik. ‘You want the dirt on Rogers?’

Erik nodded sharply.

Alex let out a snort. ‘Well _too bad_. There’s none.’ He shrugged his shoulders and then calmly went back to his drink. ‘Sorry, man – from what I can tell the guy’s clean as a whistle.’

Erik stared at him.

After a moment, Alex sighed and put down his coffee, glancing back around again. ‘What?’ he asked tiredly.

‘That’s it?’ Erik said blankly. ‘There’s no dirt?’

Alex grimaced and shook his head. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘There isn’t.’

‘You didn’t hear anything? See anything? Wandering eyes, hands – nothing?’

‘Nope,’ Alex said definitively, meeting Erik’s eyes unflinchingly. ‘Guy was a prince. I didn’t see a thing. Heck, there wasn’t anything _to_ see.’

Erik crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Is that so?’

Alex shrugged. ‘That’s what I say.’

Erik didn’t look convinced. ‘That’s what you say, huh?’ he drawled, his tone full of scepticism. ‘Because in that case I would say that _someone’s_ not been doing his _job_ right.’

Alex at once jolted up in his seat in outrage. ‘My _job_?’ he repeated incredulously, his eyes narrowed. He flung his arms out, gesturing at the bar around them. ‘ _This_ is my job, Erik. Serving people drinks is my job. Cleaning up the bar afterwards is my job. Stalking people and being your grubby little minion? Sorry to have to be the one to tell you this – no wait, actually, I’m so totally _not_ – but that is _not_ – _my_ – _job_!’

Erik stared at him for a moment, surprised. Then he grimaced. ‘I know,’ he said at last, quirking a rueful little smile at Alex. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

Alex continued to glare at him for a moment before finally shaking his head and huffing out a laugh. ‘You know, in all the years I’ve known you I’ve never heard you say you’re sorry more times than I have in the past couple of months.’ He gave Erik a small, slow grin. ‘I guess that Charles really is good for you, huh?’

Erik rolled his eyes but he couldn’t stop the reluctant smile that tugged at his lips. ‘I suppose so,’ he said quietly.

Alex sat back with a sigh. ‘I guess I can’t really blame you for acting crazy,’ he conceded after a moment. ‘I mean, that’s kind of who you are, you know?’

Erik blinked and had half a mind to call Alex out for accidentally labelling him congenitally insane but after a second’s contemplation he decided to let it go. It was a fair enough assessment, after all.

‘Besides,’ Alex was saying. ‘I’m _happy_ for you, man! You’re in love! That’s more than I _ever_ expected from you. Hell, I didn’t even expect you to _like_ anyone, let alone _love_ them, so whatever you do – however much of an _ass_ you act – you’re still passing _way_ beyond _all_ my expectations.’

He grinned broadly at Erik, who suddenly found himself on the cusp of a minor panic attack.

‘I, er-’ Erik mumbled quickly, giving an uncomfortable cough. ‘Well – _love_ is a pretty strong word …’

Alex gave Erik a flat look. ‘Don’t tell me you have your head stuck up your ass about this,’ he said exasperatedly. ‘Come on man, think about it. Why else would you be doing all this, huh?’

Erik muttered something under his breath and glared. ‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ he said sharply, scowling at the bar top.

Alex shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. But just bear this in mind – over the years I’ve seen about a hundred people pass through your bed and in all that time you’ve never wanted any of them to stick around. I don’t think you even _liked_ any of them. But Charles – you like him. A lot.’ Alex met Erik’s eyes and then shrugged again. ‘It may not be love, Erik – not yet, at least – but as far as I can tell it’s the nearest that you’re ever going to get to it. So I guess what I really mean to say is –’ he paused for effect. ‘Don’t fucking screw it up.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ Erik said grumpily, staring down at his feet. ‘I _know_.’ He frowned. ‘But you’re not _completely_ right, you know. You forgot about Magda.’

Alex gave a harsh snort. ‘Magda was a bitch,’ he said bluntly. ‘And I don’t know why you were so obsessed with her, but I can tell you – you didn’t _love_ her and I seriously doubt that you _liked_ her either. Nah, my bet – it’s still on Charles.’

‘Speaking of,’ Erik said dryly. ‘How about you tell me what really happened last night before I feel the need to break out our entire stock of gin?’

‘That might actually be worth delaying the story for,’ Alex said, smirking a little. ‘Besides, it’s not as if it’s the most interesting story in the world. Nothing actually happened, you know.’

‘Tell me anyway,’ Erik demanded.

Alex sighed. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘But you’ve been warned.’ And then he started.

The basis of Alex’s story was this: Alex had gone to _Hellfire_ early the night before and had stayed around waiting for his friends to turn up. (‘I didn’t mind,’ Alex explained, as if Erik honestly gave a damn about whether Alex minded waiting or not. ‘They have some awesome cocktails there and Emma Frost was wearing this _awesome_ low cut top thing that _really_ showed off her chest …’). Alex had never actually met Steve before, Charles having explained that the club scene was not really his boyfriend’s thing. Alex, however, through a combination of prodding and gentle teasing had eventually got Charles to promise to bring Steve along to meet him one night, and that night just happened to be that very Friday. And so Alex had sat there, drink in hand (‘I didn’t get drunk, I _swear_!’) waiting for them to arrive.

‘At first I didn’t see Charles, right – ‘cause he’s so small, you see? But then this huge guy moves out of the way and there he is, all smiling and happy – and _then_ I realise that the huge guy is _Steve_.’ Alex turned to Erik with an almost awed look on his face. ‘And man – no wonder you’re so freaking paranoid about this guy, because _dude_. _Dude_.’

‘What, do _you_ have a crush on him now?’ Erik grumbled, feeling put out. ‘Because Hank won’t be happy.’

Alex choked at that and glared at Erik before continuing. From what Erik could glean from between the exclamations of ‘ _dude!_ ’ and the near-poetic stanzas that were dedicated to the perfection of Emma Frost’s breasts, Alex had been introduced to Steve … and had promptly fallen in love with him.

‘No, seriously man,’ Alex’s eyes were wide with hero-worship. ‘The guy has freaking _medals_. Medals for like – _valour_ and some shit. Who the fuck has medals for _valour_ these days? I’ll tell you who – freaking _superheroes_.’

‘So he was in the army,’ Erik said with forced patience, trying his level best not to slam Alex’s head into the table because apparently he didn’t _do_ things like that anymore. ‘You managed to get _some_ information, then … Perhaps you’re not _entirely_ useless. Try and stick to the facts from now on, though, Summers – if you feel like reciting poetry so badly then go and find Hank. I’m sure he’d love to hear you recite Keats to him.’

Alex scowled. ‘Not funny, man,’ he grumbled. ‘Not even a little.’

‘I disagree,’ Erik said smoothly. ‘But never mind that. What else do you know?’

What else Alex knew amounted to this: that Steve was not only a goddamn veteran with _medals_ , but he was also what appeared to be a ceaseless do-gooder who helped raise money for charity and read to sick little orphans in hospitals. 

Erik couldn’t help it: he _hated_ the bastard.

‘It’s so weird, man,’ Alex was saying, still looking starry-eyed. ‘I mean, here I was thinking that _Charles_ was stupidly good, you know? And now I’ve met Steve and it’s just like _whoa_. I mean – that guy is just _awesome_ , you know?’

Erik’s lips thinned. ‘I’m beginning to see that,’ he said coolly.

Alex’s smile dimmed. ‘Oh. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean … it’s not _all_ bad. Maybe – maybe Charles doesn’t _like_ guys who build huts for starving orphans in Africa?’

Erik gave him a flat look. ‘I thought it was reading stories to sick children in hospitals?’ 

Alex considered for a moment. ‘Huh. Yeah – he must have done both of them, then.’

Erik felt his heart sink. ‘So what you’re telling me is that my only chance here is based on the hope that Charles doesn’t like selfless, heroic, stupidly-good looking war verterans and instead prefers rude, misanthropic bartenders, is that it?’

Alex winced. ‘Yeah,’ he said timidly. ‘That sounds like the face of it.’

Erik sighed and wiped a hand across his face. ‘We’re screwed,’ he stated loudly, and then he reached for the Scotch.

Alex just shrugged and reached for the glasses.

*****

Erik went through the rest of the evening with a deeply morose expression fixed on his face, his thoughts unshakeably stuck on Alex’s words.

From what Alex had said – and he had been more than forthcoming on the subject, a great deal more, in fact, than Erik would have preferred – Steve Rogers appeared to be completely perfect. Erik had never met the man – he had only ever seen him from a distance – but even his very limited acquaintance with the man had been enough to tell him that everything that Alex was saying was, for the most part, true. Steve was kind, he was a humanitarian, he was a gentleman … he was, in fact, everything that Erik himself was not. 

He was perfect. More than that, he was perfect for _Charles_. And, Erik thought dismally, didn’t Charles deserve someone who was kind and a gentleman and – quite bluntly – every bit as perfect as he was?

Not that _anyone_ was as perfect as Charles was, Erik remedied quickly. Not even this _Steve_ character. Not to Erik, at any rate. Still, he thought glumly, if anyone came close to reaching Charles’s level of perfection then it was probably Rogers. Erik was at least big enough to admit that much, although he sure as hell didn’t have to be happy about it.

Glaring morosely down at the bar top, Erik considered the futility of his endeavour. Maybe he should just give the whole thing up, he thought bleakly. For Charles’s sake if not for his own. 

Erik found himself shaking his head even as the thought occurred to him. He knew, although he did not want to admit it, that he was fooling himself if he thought he could give Charles up that easily. He might have been known for his iron will and his steely determination in both his business and his private life, but somehow he found himself weakening wherever Charles was concerned. He could try to resolve to stay away from Charles all he wanted but he knew, deep down, that he would never be able to do that. He was too … compromised.

Feeling more than a little weary, he glanced around at the bar. His eyes fell on Hank and Alex, who were sitting a little way off, conversing with their heads bowed close together. Erik valiantly resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead considered the two of them. They had been stout champions of his friendship with Charles almost from the very beginning (he deliberately set aside the completely irrelevant fact that he’d initially had to force the two of them into helping him in his pursuit, because remembering _that_ wouldn’t help anyone) and they had been more than encouraging about the two of them spending time together. In fact, Erik was very sure that, were he to give up Charles completely, it would break their poor, overly-sensitive little hearts into pieces. Not that he actually cared about their poor, overly-sensitive little hearts all that much, but broken hearts led to gloomy work environments and gloomy work environments led to an inefficient work-force. Considering that said work-force consisted only of Alex and Erik himself (and, lately, the voluntary efforts of the bespectacled pushover that was Hank), this was really not something that Erik could afford. 

So really, not giving up on Charles wasn’t _selfish_ ; it was merely a sound business strategy.

‘Thinking romantic thoughts?’ Alex abruptly popped up at his elbow, seemingly taking a break from doing bugger-all, and shot him a sly smirk.

Erik raised an eyebrow. ‘So you finally remembered that you actually work here,’ he drawled. ‘Congratulations. It only took you half the night.’

Alex scowled. ‘Did no one tell you that sarcasm is the lowest form of humour?’ he grumbled, half-heartedly reaching for the bar-rag and using it to ineffectually dab at the worktop.

Erik smirked. ‘Only the people who aren’t evolved enough to understand it,’ he said pleasantly, grinning and showing off all of his sharp, gleaming teeth. ‘Which means you, more often than not.’

‘Hey, I’m plenty evolved!’ Alex protested, indignant.

‘When compared to an orangutan, perhaps,’ Erik muttered idly, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. He gave Alex a thoughtful look. ‘Are you at _Hellfire_ again on Friday?’

Alex immediately rolled his eyes and waved a hand at Erik dismissively. ‘Yes, yes, I know, I know – I’ll be there, keeping an eye on Steve and scoping out the enemy and all that shit. No need to say it again.’

‘Hmm,’ Erik frowned a little but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t actually sure what he would have said in the first place. ‘Yes, well … never mind then,’ he said vaguely.

Alex glanced at him curiously for a second before rolling his eyes and wandering back to Hank, who looked like he was fully immersed in counting the number of ring marks on his table. Erik watched the two of them for a moment before frowning and turning away, allowing his thoughts to return to Charles.

He knew a certain number of things for certain: 

One, that he liked Charles more than anyone else in existence. 

Two, that the former statement was not an exaggeration but was actually very much true.

Three, that he was in no way, shape or form at all deserving of Charles.

Four, that Steve Rogers probably _was_.

Four point five, he hated Steve Rogers.

And finally, five, he knew that he was enough of a selfish bastard to not let points three and four do anything at all to deter him from going after Charles. 

He sighed, part in relief and partly in resignation. There was really no point in pretending that he actually had anything to decide. Not anymore. His path was clear. It always had been.

Charles was, it seemed, well and truly stuck with him.

He just hoped that Charles would find the idea as appealing as he did.


	14. Chapter 14

One week later and shortly after Alex’s second trip to the _Hellfire_ club, Erik found himself looking up from his bartending duties just in time to see Charles Xavier himself walk into the bar. Considering that Charles had not so much as set foot inside it since the fateful night that Erik had foolishly driven him away, Erik thought that the look of blank astonishment that he was no doubt sporting was actually quite a reasonable expression for him to wear.

Charles, admittedly, looked a bit hesitant as he approached the bar but he nevertheless smiled at Erik when he saw him looking his way. This smile only widened when Erik raised his hand in greeting, and Charles, seemingly reassured by this acknowledgement, calmly made his way over to his usual seat. 

Unfortunately for Erik, he could not approach Charles immediately due to the frankly distressing number of customers that had lined up in front of the bar awaiting his attention. Erik tried hard not to resent them _too_ much: they were, after all, the ones funding his business. Nevertheless, he could not help wearing a thinly-veiled scowl on his face that, although it perhaps did not make the best of impressions on his customers, certainly went a long way towards speeding up the transaction process and discouraging unwanted conversation. The line still seemed to stretch on forever, regardless, but he hurried through it as quickly as he could, frequently glancing back at Charles just to make sure that he hadn’t suddenly disappeared when he wasn’t looking. 

Eventually, the number of patrons in search of drinks dwindled and Erik was finally able to leave his post at the front of the bar and wander over to where Charles was sat patiently, watching Erik with a contemplative sort of expression.

Erik opened his mouth as he approached, thinking that he probably ought to apologise for keeping Charles waiting (never mind that there was no real _need_ for him to do so, or the fact that Erik would normally have rather shot himself in his left foot rather than apologise for something that was not his fault) but before he could so much as utter the first syllable, Charles cut him off.

‘So here’s the thing,’ Charles said the moment that Erik was within earshot, which caused him to pause mid-step. ‘I think that Alex may have a bit of a crush on Steve.’

Of all the things that Erik had been expecting him to say, that particular sentence had not even made the top five hundred. 

Blinking slowly, Erik came forward and, with a frown, uttered the first word that came to mind. ‘ _Huh?_ ’

‘I think that Alex might have a crush on my boyfriend,’ Charles repeated, sounding slightly apologetic.

Erik had absolutely no idea what to say to that. He simply stared at Charles, perplexed.

‘I know, I was surprised as well,’ Charles said dryly, acknowledging Erik’s dumbfounded look with a nod. ‘Not because Steve isn’t wonderful, or anything,’ he added quickly, ‘but more for the fact that – and maybe I’m barking up the completely wrong tree here, but – well, it’s just that I’ve always rather thought that Alex and Hank might have a bit of a thing for each other …’

Erik almost choked at that. ‘You did?’ he asked, feeling amazed and downright _vindicated_ by the fact the he hadn’t been the only one to have thought that. Then he quickly shook his head, Charles’s earlier words catching up with him. ‘Wait – why do you think that Alex has a thing for Steve?’

Charles bit his lip gave Erik a sideways glance, looking suddenly unsure. ‘I hope this isn’t … should I be talking to you about this?’ he asked uncertainly.

Erik bit back the desire to make a light, flippant comment and instead paused to actually consider the question. ‘Yes,’ he said at last, his expression serious. ‘You should. You are my friend, Charles. I know that I’m hardly an expert on friendship but I think – I _hope_ – that that means that you can talk to me about anything. _Anything_ ,’ he stressed, meeting Charles’s eyes. He then paused and tried not to wrinkle his nose. ‘And I guess because I’m Alex’s friend too,’ he added reluctantly, feeling that it was probably something that he ought to mention out loud at some point, however irksome it might be. ‘If this concerns him then I want to know.’

Charles was gazing at him with a strangely soft expression on his face. ‘Yes,’ he said at last, smiling at Erik. ‘You’re right. Of course you are. I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t believe the same.’

Erik nodded and fought a fierce internal battle to keep himself from looking down at his feet instead of meeting Charles’s eyes head-on. ‘So,’ he said evenly when he had managed to maintain eye contact for several very long seconds. ‘You were saying about Alex?’

‘Ah,’ Charles shook himself and straightened up. ‘Yes. It’s just – you know that we often see each other at the _Hellfire_ club, yes?’

‘I’m aware,’ Erik said a little stiffly.

‘Right,’ Charles nodded. ‘Well, lately he’s been very …’ he paused and bit his lip. ‘I hate to say _obsessed_ but – _fixated_ , that’s a better word, _fixated_ – well, lately Alex has been strangely _fixated_ on Steve and I’m afraid to say that it’s become ever so slightly awkward … He keeps _staring_ at Steve, you see, and peppering him with all these questions -’ Erik winced, ‘- and looking at him with this frankly quite adorable expression of hero-worship on his face …’ Charles actually smiled fondly at that, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that someone else appeared to have the hots for his boyfriend.

‘And you and Steve are getting uncomfortable?’ Erik asked quickly, his mind racing and debating the merits of using Alex as a scapegoat (it wasn’t as if Alex _wasn’t_ crushing on Steve Rogers in an embarrassing way, Erik reasoned) while at the same time trying to stuff down the pesky tendrils of guilt that were worming their way up through into his heart. ‘Do you want me to speak to him?’

‘Yes to the second, no to the first,’ Charles answered, smiling. ‘Well – Steve and I aren’t _uncomfortable_ so much as we’re a little worried. Steve thinks that Alex is a lovely chap, of course, but I rather doubt that he sees Alex in a … in the way that Alex would _want_ him to see him, if you get what I mean.’

‘Yes,’ Erik muttered, trying very hard not to wince.

‘And I suppose that Steve might appreciate not being interrogated about his army career so very much,’ Charles continued musingly. ‘He lost people, you see, and it’s rather difficult for him. But Alex is so keen and determined and eager that one really doesn’t feel like turning him away …’

Erik shifted uncomfortably. Something odd and foreign was definitely creeping into his heart and Erik was really very afraid that the sensation just might be the – completely unwanted, albeit probably quite deserved – feeling of shame.

‘… And sometimes I feel quite rotten, because it is actually really good to hear Steve talk about this, you know? I usually can’t bring myself to ask Steve these questions about his army background so to be able to hear someone else asking the questions – even if under some misguided attempt to get closer to-’

‘Alex is not in love with your boyfriend,’ Erik suddenly blurted out.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Charles blinked. ‘He’s not?’ he asked, looking quite honestly surprised.

‘No – well, _maybe_ ,’ Erik grimaced. ‘You’re right about the nauseating look of hero-worship in his eyes and the puppyish enthusiasm, but,’ he hesitated, swallowing nervously, before a heretofore absent (not to mention unexpected) sliver of decency made him continue, ‘The questions, the interrogation … I think that might actually have been _my_ fault.’

Charles’s expression of honest confusion slowly melted away into one of understanding. His jaw tightened. ‘Oh?’ he asked in a low, even voice, his normally expressive eyes suddenly unreadable.

Erik’s every instinct was telling him to pull back and to find some way to weasel out of the situation as fast as he could, but again that lone strain of decency within him took over, overruling all the baser, selfish thoughts that he was still hopelessly clinging onto. ‘I-’ he licked his lips. ‘I _might_ have asked Alex to find out more about Steve for me …’

There was a moment of silence wherein Charles and Erik simply looked at each other.

Then: ‘Oh for – oh Erik, _why_?’

Erik cringed because, more than angry, Charles sounded sad and upset. ‘I – I don’t know,’ he said, hanging his head and not meeting Charles’s eyes. He grimaced, before continuing with a very half-hearted attempt at humour. ‘Obviously there is something very wrong with me.’

Charles, unfortunately, didn’t so much as crack a smile. He was shaking his head, his normally generous mouth drawn into a tight, unhappy line. ‘I – I don’t know what to say, Erik. I really don’t.’

Erik felt his heart sink.

Charles continued, still shaking his head. ‘I honestly don’t know how many times we have to go through this,’ he said with visibly-forced patience. ‘I thought that I had made myself clear the last time but obviously I was mistaken.’

Erik quickly opened his mouth to justify his actions and say _something_ to smooth things over with Charles, but then, realising that there really was no good excuse for his behaviour, he shut his mouth again and kept quiet. A moment later, feeling more than a little anxious, he chanced a careful look over at Charles but then immediately glanced away again. Charles was frowning down at the ground, still looking angry and upset. 

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Then Charles lifted his head.

‘So,’ he said abruptly, his expression tight as he determinedly avoided Erik’s eyes. ‘What do you think of Steve, then?’

Erik blinked, startled. ‘What?’ he asked after a beat, wrought and anxious and not quite understanding the question.

‘Steve,’ Charles repeated patiently, his voice light. ‘Did Alex give you a good report? Or did he manage to find something terribly wrong with him? Perhaps you had Hank do a background check as well, while you were at it?’

‘Charles-’ Erik said desperately. When Charles turned to him, however, he found that he couldn’t speak. He had nothing to say. There was nothing he _could_ say.

Swallowing, Erik clenched his fists tightly and tried his hardest not to feel sick. He should have known better than to confess. He should have known that trying to be honest about _everything_ was a ludicrous notion; that he was an idiot for even thinking of such a thing, let alone wanting it ... for thinking that _Charles_ would put up with it, after learning about the type of man that Erik was – the type of man he _had_ been …

‘I’m sorry,’ he said helplessly, unable to say anything else. ‘I know what I did was wrong. I knew it and – and yet I convinced myself otherwise.’ He pushed his hair back from his forehead agitatedly before continuing on, his voice filled with sincerity. ‘But I know now – I think I’ve always known – that I don’t want to lie to you, Charles. I don’t want to keep doing things like this. I want – I want to be the better man.’

Charles looked pained at the confession. He bit his lip and looked up at Erik, trying to keep his face blank. ‘Then-’ Charles’s voice hitched and his cool façade broke for a second. ‘Then why _do_ this, Erik?’

Erik’s jaw worked but no words seemed to come out. Worse yet, there was a flush of mortification rising high on his cheeks, and that _never_ happened. ‘I – I-’ he began, but at the sight of Charles’s face his shoulders slumped and all excuses vanished. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a small voice, looking away in misery.

Charles sighed and rubbed his face. ‘You’ve got to stop _doing_ this, Erik,’ he said, and though his tone was gentle his eyes were fierce. ‘I know that it’s hard to break a habit of a lifetime but for _goodness sakes_ – for _my_ sake – this needs to _stop_.’

‘I know,’ Erik said bleakly.

But Charles was shaking his head. ‘You can’t keep doing this, Erik,’ he said sadly. ‘I am terribly fond of you, you know, but I can’t keep making excuses for you. Not any more.’ He let out a tired sigh, his expression unhappy. ‘You have to stop this behaviour, my friend, or sooner or later even _I_ will run out of chances to give you.’

Erik bowed his head, ashamed. ‘I know,’ he said hoarsely, his throat tight. ‘I knew it was wrong of me. It’s just-’ he turned and looked at Charles, his expression pained, and suddenly stupid things like fear and pride and jealousy meant absolutely nothing. It was time to be honest. ‘I just don’t _know_ anymore, Charles,’ he said, swallowing. ‘It’s – please,’ he abruptly grasped hold of Charles’s hands, startling him. ‘Please, just tell me. If the answer is no then I will drop this right away and I will leave you and Steve in peace once and for all – but please Charles, tell me: is there a chance for us?’

Charles stared at Erik in astonishment. ‘W-What?’ he asked, looking completely taken aback.

‘Is there a chance for us?’ Erik repeated, leaning in fully and blocking out everything else that wasn’t Charles’s face and voice and presence. ‘Any at all? I just – I just need to know.’

Charles was staring at him wide-eyed, still looking dazed from the abruptness of his question. ‘I – I-’ he stammered. Then he took a deep breath and shook his head ruefully. ‘I’m really not used to you being so direct on such matters, Erik, I’m afraid that it’s rather taken me by surprise.’ He took another breath. ‘You will have to wait for a minute or two while I set my thoughts in order, I think.’

‘I’ll wait,’ Erik said fervently, and to his surprise he found that he wasn’t just talking about the question. ‘I will, for however long you want.’

Charles gave him a tiny smile at that. ‘Just a minute or two,’ he said, patting Erik’s arm reassuringly. ‘Just so I can sort things out in my head.’

Erik nodded at that and tried to busy himself with barwork but, try as he might, he couldn’t help but become more and more aware of Charles’s presence with each passing second.

Finally, Charles straightened in his seat and turned to Erik. ‘Right,’ he said, taking a deep breath and steadying himself. ‘You asked me a direct question and so I will give you a direct answer.’ His eyes then met Erik’s. ‘I’m sorry my friend,’ he said quietly, and Erik’s heart plunged down faster than a rogue elevator. ‘But the answer is no. Not right now. Not while I’m with Steve,’ he said firmly, shaking his head. ‘I’m sorry, but – I can’t.’

Erik’s head shot up and the initial plunging drop of his heart abruptly evened out. He ignored Charles’s look of apology and instead focused on the words that had been hidden in with Charles’s rejection.

‘Not _now_ ,’ he repeated, a small, fierce light coming on in his eyes as he found himself clutching at the small sliver of hope that had been shown to him. ‘Not _now_ you said. So that means – if you ever –’

Charles bit his lip and tried to look stern but he wasn’t very good at it. ‘I won’t do you the dishonour of lying about how I feel about you, my friend,’ he said instead. ‘I – I care for you very much, as you must know.’ His expression hardened. ‘But I’m with _Steve_ now, and I care for him a great deal as well. He is – he is very good to me and he is a good man. I am truly lucky to know him.’

This wasn’t quite the declaration of love for Steve that Erik had feared hearing, but he decided not to mention anything about it or inquire any further. No doubt Charles would take that the wrong way, and Erik had already pushed his tolerance about as far as it would go.

‘I understand,’ he said instead, hanging his head. ‘I – I’ll try not to interfere any more than I already have.’

‘Good,’ Charles said with a relieved sigh. ‘I’m glad. Because–’ he hesitated. ‘Because otherwise I would have had to tell you that I’ve run out of chances to give you.’

Erik winced at that, but he nodded. ‘I don’t blame you,’ he said frankly. ‘I would probably have given up on me a long time ago. But I promise you, Charles – on my mother’s memory – I will be a better friend to you. I won’t … do what I’ve been doing anymore. I promise.’

Charles nodded at that, looking a great deal happier. ‘Good,’ he said firmly. ‘I honestly can’t tell you how much of relief it is to hear that. I’m sorry to have to say it, Erik, but as amusing as your endeavours often are, they aren’t really considered to be – er – _socially acceptable_. Most people wouldn’t be at all happy to find that you’d been poking your nose into their private affairs.’ He nudged Erik playfully with his elbow. ‘You’re lucky I’m so nice.’

‘Yes,’ Erik said, smiling even through his earnestness. ‘I really am.’

They both stared at each other, smiling, and for a moment it felt almost inevitable that they should be there, the two of them together, like this. Erik almost felt that if, in that moment, he dared enough to lean over and press his lips against Charles’s … but no. No, he wouldn’t do that. He had promised now, and he wouldn’t break it – not this time. He and Charles were friends now. Just friends. And he would be content with that for as long as Charles needed him to be.

And so he pulled back, using all of his will-power to make that one small motion of withdrawal. His doing so seemed to break the spell hanging over them and Charles was left blinking dimly for a moment before he too seemed to come to his senses and, blushing slightly, also moved back in his seat.

‘Well,’ he said, clearing his throat and making a minor fuss of checking for something in his pockets. ‘I guess I should be off then.’

‘Yes,’ Erik said quickly, shuffling his feet slightly. ‘Of course.’

‘Right,’ Charles said, slowly getting to his feet. He paused. ‘I’ll … see you around?’ he asked almost tentatively, glancing back at Erik.

Erik smiled. ‘Of course,’ he said again, but this time with greater warmth. ‘You know where to find me.’

Charles’s lips twitched upwards. ‘I do,’ he agreed. He then allowed his lips to twist up in a smirk. ‘Tell Alex that Steve says hello.’ 

Erik grinned, his teeth bared in all of their magnificent glory. ‘Will do,’ he promised, his eyes glinting.

Charles returned his grin, before straightening up and sobering. He glanced at his watch and sighed. Then, with one final nod to Erik and a small, hesitant smile, he turned around and walked out of the door to _Genosha_ , his movements graceful and unhurried and completely and utterly mesmerising.

Erik watched him depart, a knot of mixed feelings within his chest. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the evening’s events. On the one hand, things hadn’t gone all that spectacularly: Charles hadn’t taken the news that he had set Alex on Steve’s tail very well at all – although Erik supposed that that was to be expected. On the other hand, however, Erik also felt strangely better for having come clean … which was rather surprising and something that he hadn’t at all anticipated. 

It seemed that perhaps confession _was_ good for the soul, he mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. It had never really been an issue for him before – Erik usually never had any qualms about being as blunt and straightforward as he could to all those around him and he had never particularly cared enough about another person to want to deliberately conceal anything from them. The only real reason that Erik had ever kept things from other people before was for the simple fact that whatever he concealed was none of anyone else’s damn business.

Charles had changed that. That was the only explanation that Erik could come up with for the way he had been acting recently. As explanations went, he felt that it was a pretty damn good one – it not only explained why he been acting as strangely as he had, but it also explained his abrupt and unforeseen need to suddenly confess this same strangeness to Charles. 

Erik rubbed his chest and frowned, still feeling rather bemused by his decision to own up. He had never seriously considered coming clean to Charles before – not when he had stalked Charles at the supermarket (and yes, he was now willing to admit that his actions had _somewhat_ resembled stalking) and not when he had sent Hank after Charles’s schedule … never mind that Charles hadn’t really seemed to _need_ him to confess to anything, what with his uncanny ability to simply _know_ things.

Today though … Erik wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted him to speak out and come clean about Alex’s non-existent designs on Steve. It was possible that he had acted out of simple friendship in an attempt to save Alex any future embarrassment on the matter (Erik considered this option and then quickly discarded it – he might have changed but he hadn’t changed _that_ much) but, much as he wanted to deny it, the reality was that he was pretty sure that guilt – over breaking his word to Charles as much as for intruding on his privacy – played a pretty damn big part in forcing the confession out of him.

He sighed. He was getting soft.

Then again – and his mouth pulled up slightly at the side at the thought – being soft wasn’t entirely without its benefits. After all, now he had something that he hadn’t had before: he had hope. Charles had said as much, hadn’t he? That, at some point – if Erik tried and waited long enough – that Erik might still be in with a chance of winning him over. And a chance was all that Erik wanted.

He took a deep breath. All that now remained to be seen was whether or not Charles would still be willing to give Erik that chance when the time came, or if it would be too late, with Charles losing interest in him once and for all.

For Erik knew that, if anyone were to lose interest, it wouldn’t be him. He was now certain of it. Erik had always considered himself to be as firm and unchanging as a lump of solid iron but somehow – _somehow_ – Charles had managed to come in and shape him against all odds and, even more surprisingly, Erik hadn’t found it in himself to mind. It was no ordinary person who could do that and, as Erik knew now beyond all doubt, that made Charles special. He was one of a kind and Erik knew that if he were to let him go, then even if he were to search the world for half a hundred years he would never be able to find someone who fit him as well and as comfortably as Charles did.

No, Erik was slowly coming to realise, there was no one else. No one who would put up with him and no one else who he could ever envisage spending the rest of his life with. There never had been and there never would be. It was with a sense of inevitability that Erik realised that, as far as he was concerned, Charles was _it_.

It was with this in mind that he related the events of the day to Hank and Alex later on that evening – albeit in a much more straightforward and less hopelessly soppy manner. 

‘So what you’re saying is that Charles _might_ be willing to give you a chance in the future if things don’t work out between the – let’s be honest here, man – the guy who’s practically _perfect_ for him in every way, and that you’re willing to wait for him to do that because you can’t see yourself tolerating absolutely anyone else in the world except for Charles, do I have it right?’

Erik stared at Alex, wondering whether he should be glaring at him or not. He decided to err on the side of caution and glared at him anyway. ‘In a nutshell,’ he said grumpily, feeling a little put-out by Alex’s vaguely-unflattering summary. ‘If you really feel the need to see it in that way.’

Alex shrugged. ‘Just telling it like it is,’ he said haughtily, sticking his chest out.

Erik lifted an eyebrow. ‘Strange how everyone gets upset when _I_ do that,’ he murmured.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. ‘Dude, you don’t tell things like they are. You just be an asshole.’

Erik stared at him. ‘There’s a difference?’ he asked, honestly surprised.

Alex glared at him but he was interrupted by Hank before he could respond.

‘So …’ Hank was saying thoughtfully, his mind still on the issue at hand. ‘You’re back on good terms with the Charles and he’s admitted that he’s not entirely uninterested in the idea of a future relationship with you somewhere down the line ...’ He abruptly pushed his glasses up his nose and straightened up, looking for all the world as if he had arrived at the solution of a particularly perplexing mathematical equation. ‘It seems then that all you need to do is wait for the Professor to break up with his boyfriend.’

Alex let out a loud and obnoxious snort. ‘Yeah,’ he said dryly. ‘Like _that’s_ ever going to happen!’

A muscle in Erik’s cheek twitched. ‘It will happen,’ he said determinedly, his face a mask of calm determination. ‘I’m completely certain of it.’

At that, both Hank and Alex’s eyes widened and the two of them shared a nervous look. They then both immediately looked away again, Alex glancing down at his shoes and Hank shuffling awkwardly in his seat, looking anxious.

Erik, catching their matching looks of apprehension, frowned at them. ‘What?’ he snapped, feeling slightly irritable. ‘You obviously have something to say. Out with it.’

‘It’s just –’ Alex hesitated. ‘You’re not going to try and break them up are you?’ he finally burst out, looking genuinely fearful. ‘Charles and Steve, I mean. You – you’re not going to go bat-shit insane again and pull off some epic douchebag move to try and get them to split up, are you? Cause I’m telling you, man, I am so, _so_ not cool with that.’

‘Me neither!’ Hank agreed fervently, looking relieved that Alex had worked up the nerve to say it instead of him.

Erik stared at them both for a moment, gritting his teeth together. Then he let out a sigh of wearied exasperation and shook his head. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he growled, feeling slightly annoyed. ‘Of course I’m not going to do that.’

Neither Hank nor Alex looked fully convinced.

‘Are you sure about that?’ Alex asked suspiciously. ‘Because, I’m just being honest here, man, it’s _totally_ something you would do.’

‘Agreed,’ Hank said quickly.

Erik’s frown didn’t abate as he looked from one anxious face to the other. Then, realising that the two of them were genuinely worried, he let out a sigh and lifted his head and met their eyes. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘No, I’m not going to do that – I promise. I can’t deny that the idea’s not occurred to me –’ here he gave them both a wry, self-deprecating smile, ‘– you both know me far too well for that – but no. The idea is … _really_ tempting, but no. There’s no need to worry about me. I wouldn’t do that – not now. I – I promised Charles. And I’ve already broken too many promises to him, so – no more.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m not going to interfere anymore. I’m going to be Charles’s friend – and I will do my best to be as good a friend as I can be – but I am not going to interfere. Not after this. Not anymore.’

Alex and Hank both watched him in silence.

‘Well, what do you know,’ Alex murmured after a moment, his voice sounding almost awed. ‘It’s happened. Erik’s finally grown up.’

Hank bravely stepped forward and clapped Erik on the back, something that, Erik was surprised to realise, would not have happened a few months ago. ‘Welcome to the world of emotional maturity, Erik,’ he said solemnly, meeting Erik’s eyes head-on and holding his gaze. ‘It’s been a long time coming.’

‘Too long,’ Alex muttered, but he was nevertheless smiling, wearing a look that, to Erik’s eyes, almost seemed to be one of … pride.

Erik found himself smiling back at them, feeling suddenly warm. ‘Good to know,’ he said, clapping Hank and Alex on the back in return. Then he grinned. ‘Let me know when _you_ two manage to get there yourselves.’ And with that he turned and walked back to his post behind the bar, leaving Hank and Alex staring after him blankly.

‘He may have entered the land of emotional maturity,’ Alex said after a beat. ‘But that doesn’t mean that he’s not still a complete _asshole_.’

Hank just shrugged. ‘Frankly,’ he said dryly. ‘I’m surprised you ever doubted it.’


	15. Chapter 15

So it was that Erik and Charles became friends – real, _genuine_ friends – for the very first time. And thus began what Erik quickly came to realise were some of the happiest weeks of his life.

Although they started off tentatively, they gradually began to spend a great deal of time together, much to Erik’s great satisfaction, and he soon began to wonder how it was that he had ever been satisfied with spending just one short evening a week in Charles’s company when he was finding the hours and hours that they now spent together so very brief and limiting. He tried to make up for lost time by spending as many of his free evennings with Charles as possible, but even so they couldn’t meet as often as Erik would wish – ‘date night with Steve,’ Charles would tell him with a rueful look, or else there would be some other prior engagement that either one or the other couldn’t escape from, and that was on top of the times that they were both kept busy with work. When they did see each other, however, Erik found himself completely forgetting whatever woes and anxieties had been building up in his head, and for a few brief beautiful hours he was as happy and carefree as he could ever recall being.

They did everything that friends ( _not boyfriends_ , Erik would often tell himself fiercely on these occasions, _simply **friends**_ ) would do – they went to the cinema (Charles claimed to enjoy every type of genre equally but Erik knew that, deep down, Charles’s heart belonged equally to old black-and-white romance movies and classic Disney films), they would go for meals together, they would visit museums and attend exhibitions (naturally, this was Charles’s idea but Erik didn’t have it in himself to refuse him), and, in what was fast becoming one of Erik’s favourite parts of their friendship, they would play chess together whenever the mood took them. 

At first they just played in the park, on one of the many stone tables placed there, but soon, as their friendly debates grew louder and more heated, they decided that it would probably be best if they relocated somewhere more private, where grumpy older citizens wouldn’t throw them disgruntled looks of irritation whenever one of them got a bit too enthusiastic in making their point.

It was at this stage that Erik decided to bring Charles over to his apartment. He tried to play it as coolly as he could, but in reality he was sufficiently self-aware enough to know that this was something of a landmark moment for him. The truth was, Erik _never_ brought anyone to his apartment. It just wasn’t something that he did. He had always considered it to be his own private sanctuary, a place that was his and was just for him. No one else was allowed to set foot inside it – not that there was anyone _to_ set foot inside it, apart from himself – and Erik had always enjoyed the fact that he could be as loud and messy as he liked without having to bother about anyone else’s judgment or disapproval (the fact that Erik was neither loud nor messy was completely irrelevant; he simply enjoyed the _possibility_ of it).

Now though – now things were different. Because the person he was inviting inside his apartment was not just anyone: it was _Charles_.

And so it was with his nerves dancing a painful tune across his chest that Erik led Charles to his flat that night, feeling unaccountably nervous for no reason that he could logically discern. It was only through firm resolve and a steely heart that he managed to lead the way inside, and once there he determinedly avoided Charles’s eye, feeling strangely at a loss on what to do next.

Charles, luckily, didn’t wait for an invitation to walk in. Instead, he stepped through the door of Erik’s flat, took five steps inside, and then paused, looking around. ‘Huh,’ he said abruptly, his tone vaguely surprised. ‘Well. This isn’t at all what I was expecting.’

Erik forced his face into a blank mask and it was only by force that he stopped his entire body from vibrating with anxiety. ‘Oh?’ he asked tightly, trying not to let his emotions show. ‘And what _were_ you expecting?’

Charles gave a small smile and shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, glancing around again – although this time there was a warmth in his eyes that made Erik relax a little. ‘Maybe a bachelor pad of sorts, a messy interior …’ His eyes trailed across the room once more and he shook his head in wonder. ‘But it’s not like that at all. It’s so … _neat_. Really, Erik, it’s positively spartan.’

Erik, who had started to relax, suddenly felt his cheeks start to burn with self-consciousness. He looked at the room around him. Maybe he should have left a little clutter around the room, he thought doubtfully. Kept a book or two lying around on the coffee table. Maybe even – although the thought made him almost physically ill – left a few dishes lying in the sink. Perhaps then Charles wouldn’t think that his home was so … neat.

‘Um,’ he began, not knowing whether he should apologise or not. Luckily Charles started talking before Erik could start stupidly apologising for the tidiness of his own home.

‘It’s perfect,’ Charles said happily, beaming at the apartment around him and taking Erik completely by surprise. ‘It’s _you_ , Erik. It has your personality all over it. A little harsh and severe around the edges, perhaps …’ Charles then took a few steps further into the apartment, coming to stand before a chest of drawers, and slowly drawing his fingertip across the framed photograph that was perched on top. ‘But comfortable and warm and _good_ at the heart.’

Erik was forced to look away at that, suddenly self-conscious for a completely different reason.

Charles continued to look at the photograph in front of him. ‘Your mother?’ he asked quietly, after a moment.

Erik nodded, not trusting himself to speak at first. ‘Yes,’ he at last replied, his voiced strangely gruff. ‘Edie Lehnsherr. She – she was a wonderful woman.’

‘I’m sure,’ Charles said warmly, giving Erik a small smile over his shoulder before taking a step back from the photograph. ‘You have a lovely home, Erik,’ he said sincerely. He then bit his lip and gave a rather awkward little laugh. ‘I’m almost worried that I’ll ruin the place just by touching something. I – I can be a little messy, sometimes.’

‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Erik said immediately, and he was surprised to find that he was telling the truth. For some strange reason Charles’s mess would only make his apartment feel all the more appealing. He smiled at Charles and raised his arms. ‘Feel free to turn everything upside down if you feel the need to.’

Charles laughed at that and turned to Erik with an eyebrow raised in challenge. ‘Is that supposed to be some sort of elaborate metaphor for my chaotic presence in your life?’ he asked, his mouth twitching mischievously.

Erik opened his mouth and then swallowed, turning away before he could say anything to embarrass himself. ‘No,’ he said at last, when he could manage it calmly. ‘It’s simply a reference to your perpetual need to be surrounded by clutter.’

‘How do you know that I’m constantly surrounded by clutter?’ Charles demanded in a tone that might have been defensive if Erik hadn’t been able to see the grin that Charles was trying to suppress.

‘I’ve heard enough stories,’ Erik said dryly, crossing his arms and remembering the frequent complaints that Charles used to bring with him to _Genosha_ about the state of his office at the university. ‘And don’t forget, Charles – I’ve seen where you live. I’m pretty sure that there are more books and papers in your house than there are free surfaces.’

This time it was Charles’s turn to go red. ‘Yes, well,’ he blustered slightly. ‘Hazards of being a scientist, I suppose.’

Erik just shrugged. ‘It’s you,’ he said simply. He then gave Charles a self-deprecating smile. ‘Just as much as the spartan, anal-retentive neatness is _me_.’

Charles smiled at that. ‘Well then, my friend, we must come to an accord,’ he declared. ‘You can help me clear up my space and I will help you clutter up yours.’

Erik stood still, looking at Charles for a long moment before finally nodding. ‘Sounds like a plan,’ he said casually.

Charles’s smile widened. ‘Good,’ he said simply. ‘It’s been decided.’ Then he cocked his head. ‘Shall we?’

Erik’s brow furrowed. ‘Shall we what?’ he asked warily, giving Charles a speculative glance.

A glint entered Charles’s eyes and a mischievous look crossed his face as if his thoughts were running in an entirely improper direction before he answered. ‘Play chess, naturally,’ he answered. ‘Why,’ he asked innocently. ‘What did you think I meant?’

Erik gave him a look. ‘I am not going to answer that,’ he said dryly, shaking his head, even though his stomach had given a small leap at Charles’s teasing.

Charles nodded gravely. ‘Probably for the best,’ he said wisely. Then he gave Erik a positively angelic smile. ‘Care to show me to your bedroom? Where you keep your chess set,’ he added at Erik’s blank look, trying to stifle a grin.

Erik shook his head. ‘You’re ridiculous,’ he sighed, but he could not help the smile that turned up the corner of his lips. 

Charles now felt secure enough to casually flirt with him, he thought happily. That hadn’t happened since before The Incident, and, to Erik, it was nothing short of a landmark occasion. It was just idle flirtation, of course, and Charles wasn’t being serious – of course he wasn’t, he had _Steve_ , he had a _boyfriend_ – but the very fact that he now felt enough at ease with Erik to be able to flirt with him, even casually, was nigh on miraculous.

This thought naturally ensured that Erik’s concentration was completely shot and he knew that he probably wouldn’t win a single chess match that evening, but even so, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was, it seemed, almost completely happy.

*****

They played well into the early hours that night.

They played the next week, too. And the week after that. Sometimes for a number of days in a row. 

Life might not have been perfect but, as far as Erik was concerned, it was pretty damn close.

*****

Things went on in this way for a while, with Erik and Charles now firm friends and with everything as close to perfection as Erik could imagine. Erik still didn’t go to _Hellfire_ with Charles and his friends, and Charles still didn’t visit _Genosha_ all too often, but – lonely Fridays aside – everything was almost ideal.

Things were going almost perfectly.

 

And everything might have ended this way too, if it weren’t for one giant colossal mistake that Alex made:

He took Hank to _Hellfire_ and got him completely plastered.

‘It was those girly cocktails!’ he swore, when everything was reviewed later. ‘I swear to freaking god, it was those fucking pink cocktails. Those things are a fucking _menace_!’

Hank, when he later returned to something resembling sobriety, would agree and say much the same, but by then it would be too late.

The damage would already have been done.


	16. Chapter 16

‘You sure you can handle another one, sugar?’

Hank blinked blearily and took a moment to seriously consider the question (he needed to take into account his body mass index [low], the speed of his metabolism [very high], the alcoholic content of the cocktail in question [unknown, but in all probability very, _very_ high], and then factor in the results of his past experiences with alcohol [numerous, particularly since he’d become friends with one Alex Summers]), but before his sluggish brain could even attempt to work out a proper formula for the answer, he was sadly beaten to the punch.

‘Sure he can,’ Alex declared loudly, clapping Hank on the back and grinning at their bartender, Emma Frost, who incidentally just so happened to also be the owner of the _Hellfire_ club and one of the Professor’s closest friends. ‘Hank here’s not going to let a bunch of girly pink cocktails beat him, are you, Bozo?’

It was entirely possible, Hank mused, that Alex had been intending to aim his grin at Emma Frost’s face but, through some extraordinary and inexplicable means that Hank couldn’t fathom, Alex had somehow ended up directing it at her cleavage instead. Baffled as he was by this happenstance, it took Hank a moment to remember that he had been addressed. ‘Er … no?’ he attempted tentatively, blinking blearily at Alex and trying to disengage his brain from where it had been attempting work out the exact formula to map out the correlation between Alex’s steady alcohol consumption and the heightened magnetic properties of Emma Frost’s cleavage.

‘Attaboy,’ Alex beamed maniacally, clapping Hank on the back again in enthusiasm. ‘Told you he could handle it. The guy’s a fucking _beast_!’

‘Beast,’ Hank agreed with a nod, reaching out a stealthy hand for the bright pink cocktail that had been placed in front of him. He liked that so much better than being called Bozo. ‘Beast,’ he said again, approvingly, drawing the pink cocktail towards him with all the stealth of a super-ninja.

Emma Frost watched him with a distinctly unimpressed expression. ‘If you say so, sugar,’ she said dryly. ‘It’s your own head you’ll be crying over tomorrow, not mine.’

‘Unless you _want_ it to be,’ Alex blurted out, taking them all – himself included – by surprise. ‘Your. Head. That I … Um.’ He swallowed as Emma’s eyebrow slowly rose up her forehead. ‘It’s just – um. You could – That’s. Erm. Never mind.’ He turned and gave Hank a weak smile. ‘I’m just gonna …’

‘Yup,’ Hank nodded, agreeing. ‘Excellent decision.’

He watched with a vague sort of interest as Alex took off and fled into the crowds of people gyrating on the dance floor before turning back to Emma with an expression of the most pleasant civility. ‘I’ll have another pink girly drink, please,’ he said politely. ‘With a blue umbrella on the side.’

Emma Frost’s eyebrow was still high on her forehead, but there was a twitch to her lips as she took his order. ‘You got it, Beast,’ she drawled, but Hank had gone far enough down the road to complete leglessness that he felt only pride and not the slightest bit of embarrassment at her words. 

He paused in his contemplation of his new nickname as Emma reached for a fresh cocktail glass and then watched, mesmerised, as she prepared the drink in front of him, feeling oddly nostalgic for his own set of beakers and test-tubes that he had back at home. He managed to push his yearning aside when Emma set the glass down in front of him a minute later, and instead drew the cocktail nearer towards him, looking pleased to see more of his new, neon-pink companion.

‘I like it here,’ he declared with a happy sigh, regarding his drink fondly.

Emma looked amused. ‘Glad to hear it, sugar.’

‘I mean, don’t get me wrong,’ Hank said hurriedly, leaning forward and speaking in voice barely louder than a whisper, ‘I love spending time at _Genosha_ too, but there’s always something …’

‘Traumatic?’ Emma supplied helpfully.

Hank wrinkled his nose for a moment before nodding. ‘Yes,’ he decided. ‘It’s always very _traumatising_ , going back there. I’m not sure why.’

Emma huffed out a laugh at that. ‘Really?’ she drawled, putting her hands on her hips. ‘You can’t figure out why? Honestly, sugar, here I was thinking that you were some sort of genius. Or has Summers just been exaggerating things because he’s head over heels for you?’

Hank blinked dimly. ‘Whuh?’ he asked blankly, not sure that he had computed that sentence correctly.

Emma studied him for a moment before she then rolled her eyes and directed her gaze back to her bar. ‘Never mind,’ she muttered, fixing drinks with an easy, practiced hand. ‘I’m sure we’ll get around to dealing with _that_ particular pink elephant at some point when you’re _not_ in danger of keeling over and braining yourself on my nice, clean bar. So then,’ she straightened up and dispatched a number of drinks towards her customers with a few sharp flicks of her wrist. ‘As we were saying about _Genosha_. It’s really very obvious. We all know the source of your trauma, sweets, and it can all be laid at the door of one very rude, very emotionally-constipated, good-looking bartender.’

‘What, Alex?’ Hank asked, confused.

Emma looked at him and then sighed. ‘Are you sure you’re a genius, hon?’ she asked again, raising her eyebrow doubtfully. ‘Cause you sure as hell aren’t living up to the hype.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m talking about that rat-bastard _Lehnsherr_ , of course. Tall, handsome and likely to bite your head off – you know who I’m talking about, right?’

‘Oh, Erik,’ Hank nodded sagely, looking much clearer. ‘Yes, I know him.’ Then, struck by a sudden jolt of probably misplaced loyalty, he added, ‘And I wouldn’t say that he’s _traumatised_ me, exactly… I mean, he’s not all _that_ bad, you know …’

Emma crossed her arms over her chest at that, clearly unimpressed by his half-hearted attempt at defence. ‘You’re forgetting,’ she said dryly. ‘You’re not just talking to someone who’s heard of Lehnsherr. You’re talking to someone who _knows_ him. I’ve met that particular grinch a fair few times now, sugar, and I’ll tell you something – that man? He could traumatise the entire criminal population of _Alcatraz_.’

Hank frowned and shuffled in his seat. ‘Er,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I don’t actually think that there’s anyone _in_ Alcatraz any more …’

Emma shrugged, not in the least bothered by this fact. ‘The point still stands,’ she said carelessly. ‘The man could traumatise anything. _Anything_. Non-sentient former prisons included.’

Hank considered that for a long moment and then figured that maybe she had a point. ‘Still,’ he said, with what he was sure was an admirable and not simply misguided sense of loyalty. ‘He’s got _better_. Slightly. I mean maybe. Just a little bit.’

Emma did not look convinced. ‘It’s a nice thought, sugar,’ she said dryly. ‘But I’ll believe it when I see it.’

‘No, really,’ Hank persisted, feeling strangely anxious despite the dreamy, floaty feeling that had begun clouding up his brain. ‘He’s definitely become better. Happier. _Smilier_.’ He paused and shuddered at that last one. ‘Less … Erik-y.’ That was a word, he told himself reassuringly. It was definitely one. An adjective, in fact. Used to describe things that were … Erik-like. ‘The Professor’s made him be _nice_. Well,’ he corrected himself, ‘nic _er_.’

Emma’s attention appeared to have been caught by this skilled dissection of Erik’s change in character, for her gaze seemed to sharpen and she leaned in closer to Hank with a look of deep interest.

‘Well isn’t that just the strangest thing,’ she murmured. ‘Do tell me more, sugar.’

Hank felt himself go slightly red at her proximity (not to mention that he was beginning to make some headway into understanding the mystery behind Emma Frost’s magnetic cleavage) and he started to stammer awkwardly, but then he suddenly remembered that he was a Beast (Alex had said it so it _had_ to be true) and also that it was probably time for another girly pink cocktail.

‘It’s probably time for another girly pink cocktail,’ he announced abruptly, nodding at Emma, who sighed and reached back behind the bar. A few minutes later, Hank was happily sipping his cocktail while Emma Frost waited patiently for him to start.

‘So what was that you were saying about Charles and Lehnsherr?’ Emma asked after a solid minute had gone by with Hank not saying a word and just smiling down pleasantly at his neon-pink drink.

‘Who and who?’ Hank blinked dimly.

Emma sighed. ‘Charles. Your Professor,’ she said impatiently. ‘And Erik Lehnsherr. The owner of _Genosha_. Who you were talking about just two minutes ago.’

‘Oh right,’ Hank said brightly, nodding. Then he frowned. ‘What was I talking about?’

Emma’s eyes narrowed. ‘Right,’ she said flatly. ‘No more girly pink cocktails for _you_ until you spill _everything_.’

Hank’s face instantly fell. ‘You’re as bad as Erik,’ he mumbled, feeling really very hard done by. Honestly, wasn’t there a single bar in the entire city that wasn’t run by a complete hard-ass? Or, at least, somewhere where the bartender wouldn’t bully him so very mercilessly?

He glanced down unhappily at the now half-empty cocktail glass. Then he glanced up at Emma. He sighed. ‘You drive a hard bargain,’ he said sadly, before lowering his head in defeat. ‘Erik’s in love with Charles,’ he said, sighing. ‘He’s completely and utterly head over – head over … head over something for him.’

Emma was watching him closely. ‘Are you sure of that?’ she demanded, her hands on her hips.

Hank nodded vigorously, almost sending his glasses flying in the process. ‘Oh yes,’ he said easily. ‘Very sure. Incredibly sure. 100% sure. Well,’ he frowned. ‘ _Nothing_ is actually 100% accurate, so it’s more like 99.9999% certain with a 0.0001% margin of error, but for the sake of simplicity, then yes – 100% certain.’

Emma was watching him with a blank expression. ‘Right,’ she said flatly. ‘Understood.’

But Hank wasn’t done. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said seriously. ‘How can I be certain? How can I _know_ that Erik loves the Professor. Well,’ here he leant closer. ‘Here’s the thing – _I can tell_.’ He nodded wisely at Emma. ‘I can just – just _tell_. It’s – it’s something I _know_.’ He paused for a moment and took a sip of his drink. ‘Also, Erik told us as much just the other day.’

Emma levelled a look at Hank that, had Hank been anywhere near sober, would have made him freeze all the way down to his woolly, thermal socks.

‘You know what, sugar,’ she said after a moment. ‘This is turning out to be not quite as informative as I’d expected. We’re going to postpone this little chat to sometime when you’re _not_ about to fall out of your seat in a drunken stupor.’ She paused, considering. ‘Or maybe I’ll see if Erik’s _other_ brainless minion is good for more than just ogling.’

‘I’m sure he doesn’t mean to ogle you _that_ much,’ Hank said faithfully.

Emma raised an eyebrow. ‘Who said it was just me that he was ogling?’ she murmured, before smirking at Hank and then going back to mixing up a cocktail.

Hank frowned – because who else would Alex be ogling? – before wisely deciding not to think about it and to just concentrate on weaselling another drink out of Emma.

Ten minutes later found him met with both success – despite everything, it was surprisingly easy to weasel drinks out of Emma, who looked to be keeping a tally of how much alcohol it would take for him to pass out for future reference – and failure, with his thoughts somehow cycling back to Alex in spite of himself.

‘I didn’t use to like him all that much,’ he confessed to Emma, who nodded with something that almost resembled understanding as he rambled on. ‘I mean he was so … so …’ he waved his hand in a vague gesture. ‘So …’ He paused, frowning, trying to think of an appropriately descriptive word.

Emma waited but after more than sixty seconds had passed without Hank’s look of concentration altering even in the slightest, she sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘So dickish?’ she offered, her voice flat. ‘So annoying? So moronic? So _handsome_?’

‘So _blond_!’ Hank suddenly exclaimed, looking utterly pleased with himself. ‘He was just so – so _blond_ , you know?’ 

Emma raised a golden eyebrow and just stared at him.

‘So no, I didn’t like him,’ Hank continued, oblivious. ‘And he wasn’t very nice, at first.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘He used to call me Bozo.’

‘He _still_ calls you Bozo,’ Emma said dryly. ‘He _introduced_ you to me as Bozo.’

‘Oh,’ Hank blinked. ‘Yeah, I guess he did. And Beast – he called me that too.’

‘Because of how you are in bed?’ 

Hank frowned. ‘How would Alex know what I’m like in bed?’ he asked, baffled.

Emma sighed. ‘I honestly have no idea.’

Hank nodded, apparently satisfied, before picking up from where he had left off. ‘Anyway, one day we bumped into each other in the bowling alley-’

‘Is that a euphemism, sugar?’ Emma purred, perking up slightly.

‘Er – no?’ Hank blinked, looking vaguely bewildered before going back to his story and missing Emma’s sigh of disappointment. ‘And then we decided to play together-’

‘Too easy,’ Emma muttered.

‘- and the rest, as they say, is history,’ Hank said happily, leaning back in his seat and beaming at the club around him in benevolent happiness. ‘We’ve been best friends ever since.’

‘That’s nice, sweets,’ Emma said vaguely, her attention starting to wander. ‘Now how about I just-’

‘I was never that sure about his friendship with Erik, though,’ Hank barged on, interrupting her rudely – something that, had he been sober, he would never have dared to do. ‘Erik’s nice enough _now_ , of course, now that he wants to get in with the Professor-’

Emma’s ears pricked up.

‘- but back in the day he was just really, really, _really_ …’ he paused. ‘ _Awful_ ,’ he said at last, filling the word with all the earnest conviction of someone who, after another drink or two, would keel over in a drunken stupor and not wake up until at least fifteen hours had passed. It was a lot of conviction. ‘I was actually really worried that his … _awfulness_ … would rub off on Alex.’

Emma considered going for the pun that was all but dancing in front of her but after a moment she just sighed and graciously forbore. Innuendo was only fun when there was someone there to appreciate it and Hank didn’t seem like the type to understand it even when he was sober. She should really introduce him to Raven, Emma mused, tilting her head in consideration. Raven would have a veritable field day with him. _And_ she would appreciate a good bit of innuendo when she heard it.

‘… shouldn’t have worried _so_ much, I think – I mean Alex isn’t the _best_ person in the world, but he’s also not the _worst_ , and when you think of how much time he’s spent with Erik, he’s really not all _that_ bad …’ Hank was rambling on, seemingly careless of whether or not anyone was listening. ‘Don’t get me wrong, though, I’m well aware that he’s not _completely_ blameless. After all, the whole terrible situation with Erik and the Professor _was_ all his fault …’

Emma’s head snapped up. ‘What?’ she asked sharply. ‘What do you mean?’

Hank blinked dimly. ‘Huh?’ he asked, surprised to have someone asking him questions in the middle of his monologue. Usually when he started talking people either told him to shut up or they just drifted away. ‘What’s that?’

‘You said that Alex was responsible for everything that happened between Charles and Erik,’ Emma said impatiently, her vague, indolent front suddenly replaced with glacial coldness. ‘ _What_ exactly did you mean by that?’

Hank’s expression cleared. ‘Oh, you know,’ he shrugged his shoulders and almost toppled out of his seat in the process. ‘Just that he was the one who iniss – inishh – _initiated_ the whole thing.’ He blinked and then smiled, proud at having got the word out correctly.

‘But _how_?’ Emma demanded, leaning over the bartop, her eyes narrowed.

Hank looked at her with widened eyes. ‘With the bet,’ he said, as if it were obvious. ‘He’s the one that made the bet, didn’t he?’

Emma twitched. ‘Bet?’ she asked sharply.

‘Yeah,’ Hank waved a hand about vaguely. ‘With Erik. To – you know – get Charles to sleep with him.’

Emma went completely still. ‘Oh?’ she asked quietly, and even in his drunken state Hank felt a strange shiver run down his spine. ‘So you’re saying that Alex Summers challenged his dick of a boss to have sex with Charles Xavier? For fun?’

‘Pretty much,’ Hank shrugged. ‘Not _just_ for fun though,’ he added quickly. Then he paused, considering. ‘He actually bet him a month of Thursday night shifts. Or maybe it was two months. And money,’ he added after a beat, nodding as if pleased with himself for remembering. ‘I think there was money involved too.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah,’ Hank nodded resolutely. ‘Definitely money.’ He gave Emma a sideways glance. ‘Erik won, by the way.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yup,’ Hank said happily. ‘He was really pleased with himself. Alex kept complaining about how insufferably smug he was and about how Erik couldn’t even wait until he’d stepped through the door before demanding his winnings.’ Hank’s face slipped a little. ‘Alex couldn’t afford to come out for _ages_ after that,’ he said sadly. ‘We didn’t go bowling for _weeks_.’

Emma’s face was completely void of all expression. ‘I see,’ she said icily, and Hank was gratified that she too felt outraged on Alex’s behalf.

‘It was really too bad,’ he agreed, nodding gravely.

‘Quite.’ Emma’s tone was glacial and her lips were a thin line. There appeared to be some sort of internal struggle going on within her and it was a minute before she spoke again. ‘Charles … Charles never told me that part,’ she said at last, her tone hushed and stitlted. ‘About the bet, that is. He never said.’

Hank nodded as if this wasn’t surprising. ‘Uh huh,’ he said.

Emma glanced at him oddly before leaning forward. ‘Would you care to hazard a guess at _why_ he never told me?’ Emma’s silky tone did not match the hardness of her eyes.

Hank shrugged. ‘Dunno,’ he said pleasantly. Emma’s eyes narrowed. ‘But I suppose if I had to guess …’

Emma raised an eyebrow.

‘Then I would say that he probably doesn’t know,’ Hank said with a decisive nod of the head.

‘… He doesn’t know,’ Emma repeated, her voice flat.

‘Uh huh,’ Hank grinned tipsily, relieved that Emma seemed to have understood. He leaned up close to her and put his finger on his lips. ‘Sssshhhh,’ he whispered in a tone that anyone with vaguely decent hearing within a five yard radius could have heard. ‘Don’t tell him. It’s a _secret_.’

Emma’s lips tightened. ‘Oh,’ she said in a cold, dangerous voice. ‘We’ll just see about _that_.’ She straightened up from the bar counter, her face a mask of icy rage. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, sugar; I have something important that I need to do.’

‘Okay,’ Hank beamed, waving after her as she retreated, still completely oblivious to Emma’s soured mood. He sighed happily at the bar around him and then glanced down at his cocktail glass. His shoulders slumped when he realised that it was completely empty. ‘Oh dear,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose you could-’

But when he looked up, Emma Frost was gone.

**…**

Hank was still contemplating his glass in a mournful silence when Alex dropped back into the seat next to him.

‘She’s gone, then?’ he asked, sounding relieved. ‘Awesome. I mean, Frost is _super_ hot and all, but she also looks like she could freeze my balls off with one look, you know what I mean?’

Hank opened his mouth to agree but then frowned and shook his head.

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘Never mind, Bozo,’ he said, patting Hank on the back. He glanced around distractedly. ‘Where did she go, anyway?’

Hank shrugged, accidentally jostling the hand that Alex had left on his shoulder. ‘Dunno,’ he said grumpily. ‘She just went off, saying she needed to do something. I don’t know what.’

‘Ha,’ Alex snorted in what was really a very unattractive manner, Hank thought sourly. ‘What did you do, Bozo, scare her away with your joke about neutrons?’

‘ _Neurons_ ,’ Hank corrected irritably, feeling slightly affronted by Alex’s unattractive guffawing. ‘The joke was about neurons. As in the ones in your _brain_.’

Alex blinked. ‘Huh,’ he said after a moment. ‘That actually makes sense now.’

‘I _always_ make sense,’ Hank said huffily, raising his chin. ‘Also, I’ll have you know that I wasn’t talking to Miss Frost about science at all, and she was actually finding me really interesting.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Alex raised an eyebrow, looking more than a little amused. ‘So what were you telling her about then, Bozo?’

‘You,’ Hank declared, and he smiled proudly at Alex’s startled look. ‘We were talking about _you_ , Alex.’

Alex’s eyes were wide. ‘Really?’ he demanded, unable to hide his eagerness. ‘She asked about me? What did you tell her?’

Hank didn’t answer.

‘ _Hank!_ ’

‘Hmmm?’ Hank’s eyelids were feeling oddly heavy and he felt himself start to list towards the side.

‘Did she ask about me?’ Alex demanded, shoving Hank roughly and causing him to blink his eyes open and straighten up before he tipped over. ‘Did she want to know more about me?’

‘Hm? Oh, yes,’ Hank blinked and then nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, she was very interested in you.’

‘Awesome!’ Alex said, feeling pleased. ‘What did she want to know? Did she ask if I was single?’

‘What? Oh – no,’ Hank shook his head. ‘Nothing like that. Nothing like that at all. She just wanted to know what it was that you did to start this whole business between Erik and the Professor.’

Alex froze. ‘What?’ he said dumbly.

‘You know,’ Hank swallowed a yawn. ‘The bet and stuff. She wanted to know what it was that you did.’

‘And you _told_ her?’ Alex hissed, looking torn between rage and horror.

Hank frowned. ‘Was I not supposed to?’ he asked, confused.

Alex let out a groan. ‘That’s it,’ he said, holding his hand over his face. ‘No more pink cocktails for you again. Ever.’

Hank’s expression drooped at that, and he once again looked down at his empty glass with great regret.

Alex dithered for a moment, disconcerted, before he turned around and sighed. ‘Go on then,’ he grumbled, sitting up in his seat and turning to glare at Hank. ‘Tell me everything. I want to know exactly what you said, and then exactly what _she_ said and _then_ I’ll decide whether or not I will murder you now, or if I’ll wait until you’ve passed out in your own vomit and _then_ kill you.’

Hank’s mouth turned down at that and he looked at Alex unhappily. ‘I knew Erik had rubbed off on you,’ he muttered despondently to himself. He then blinked and let out of guffaw of laughter. ‘He _rubbed_ -’ he snorted and swallowed the words, unable to move on.

Alex stared at him in bemusement. ‘Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Hank?’ he demanded, eyeing the person in front of him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. ‘Christ, man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this drunk. What the hell did they put in those fucking cocktails?’

Hank shrugged. ‘Dunno,’ he said happily. ‘I like it. We should have them at _Genosha_.’

Alex let out a snort. ‘Yeah,’ he said dryly. ‘Cause _that_ will happen while Erik’s still living and breathing. Now-’

‘Do you think he would if the Professor asked him?’ Hank asked anxiously. ‘He would, right? He’d do anything he asked, right?’

‘I dunno, Bozo,’ Alex said, shrugging. ‘I mean – maybe? He’s kind of crazy for Charles, so you never know. But then he _does_ hate everything to do with _Hellfire_ …’

‘Miss Frost isn’t too keen on him either,’ Hank agreed, looking put out. ‘Especially after she heard about the bet. She wasn’t too pleased to hear about that.’

‘Yeah,’ Alex’s expression drooped again. ‘I can imagine. I don’t think I’m in her good books right now, either.’

Hank nodded. ‘It’s a good thing that the Professor doesn’t know,’ he said, sighing. ‘Or else he might be upset with you too, and that would be _terrible_.’

‘Yeah,’ Alex said vaguely. ‘That’s a – hold on.’ He turned to Hank and frowned. ‘What do you mean he doesn’t know?’

‘Well – the bet,’ Hank looked vaguely surprised, although that could just be the result of the alcohol in his system catching up to his face muscles. ‘He doesn’t know about the bet. Right?’

Alex went cold. ‘He doesn’t?’ he stammered, feeling suddenly paralysed. ‘But – no – of course he – what?’

‘Well, did you tell him?’ Hank asked reasonably.

‘No!’ Alex exploded before biting his lip and shaking his head. ‘No, I didn’t. But that’s – that’s not _my_ deal, Hank – that’s on _Erik_. _He’s_ the one that’s supposed to tell Charles all this stuff. And he has. I’m _sure_ he has. He’s told him everything else – why wouldn’t he tell him that?’

Hank shrugged. ‘Maybe he forgot?’ he said easily, glancing vaguely around at the bar and wondering where he could find a bartender.

Alex scoffed. ‘Oh yeah, like Erik would really just forget all about-’ The blood drained from his face. ‘Oh shit. _Oh shit_ ,’ he turned to face Hank in horror. ‘Emma – she left right after you told her this?’

Hank nodded slowly, uncomprehending. 

‘Oh _shit_!’ Alex raked an agitated hand through his hair. ‘Oh man, oh man, oh man. This is just so-’ He took a deep shuddering breath and turned to Hank. ‘Hank, you got to bring your A-game here, buddy, okay? You need to stop being this weird-ass drunk Hank and start being normal Hank now, okay? I need you, man, don’t leave me hanging now.’

Hank blinked at him and then opened his mouth. ‘Whuh?’ he asked confusedly.

Alex groaned. ‘Christ,’ he muttered. Then he grabbed hold of Hank and yanked him to his feet. ‘Okay, you listen up, Bozo, and you listen up good. You get out onto that dance-floor and under no circumstances – _no circumstances_ – do you let Emma fucking Frost anywhere near the Professor. Do you hear me? _Nowhere near_. It might already be too late but it doesn’t matter. Just – just keep Charles there and away from Emma Frost, do you hear me? Don’t let her say _anything_ to him.’

Hank’s vision swam and his head ached from the sudden jolt to his feet, but he nevertheless met Alex’s eyes and nodded gravely. ‘Gotcha,’ he said, nodding with a bit too much enthusiasm. He stopped when his stomach gave an unpleasant jolt. ‘And – er – what are you going to be doing again?’

Alex was already rummaging around in the pocket of his too-tight trousers, a grim expression on his face.

‘I’m going to call Erik,’ he said tightly, swallowing a lump of dread in his throat. ‘And I am going to seriously hope to hell that that jackass told Charles absolutely everything about that night that they slept together because – if he hasn’t? – then we are all so, so, _so_ very screwed …’


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, hope you're enjoying the story! Just to let you all know that I am going away next week, so this will be the last update for a short while. I hope it tides you over till I return!
> 
> Not too long to go before the end now!

Erik was in his bar, serving drinks and minding his own business, when his mobile phone rang. Erik smiled, assuming that the call was from Charles – he could count the number of people who had his personal contact number on one hand, after all – and, reaching into his pocket, he quickly pulled out his phone, glancing briefly at the screen as he did so. The unconsciously soft smile that he had been wearing slid off his face almost immediately when he saw that the caller was not Charles, but was in fact Alex. 

Erik frowned down at the phone in his hand, slightly baffled at why Alex would be calling him. Alex _never_ called him (probably because Erik had threatened him soundly before reluctantly handing over his phone number, promising swift and deadly retribution if Alex ever called him when not in the midst of a dire emergency), but he very much doubted that there was any such emergency occurring right now. The only likely explanation that he could come up with was was that it was Friday night – which meant that Alex was probably at _Hellfire_ with Charles and Hank like he was _every_ Friday night, getting smashed over ridiculous, brightly-coloured girly cocktails – which, he thought with a swiftly-gathering frown, meant that there was every indication that Alex was drunk-dialling him.

Any tiny, miniscule remnants of doubt over whether he ought to take the call or not disappeared less than a moment later when a customer approached the bar, effectively making his decision for him. Firmly hitting the ‘Ignore’ button of his phone, Erik once again pocketed it before turning to serve his customer. Unfortunately, this was when the phone started up once again and Erik was forced to endure its vibrations against his thigh all through the transaction. 

The phone continued to ring for an irritatingly long time before it eventually stopped, falling into stillness. Erik let out a quiet breath of relief, only for his expression to darken when the vibration of his phone abruptly started up again. Gritting his teeth, Erik forced himself to ignore it, determinedly turning his attention to the customers in front of him and trying to take no notice of the silently vibrating phone in his pocket.

The ringing stopped. And then it started. Again and again and again. Erik was moments away from taking a hammer to his phone when it suddenly stopped altogether and lay completely still within his pocket. Erik paused for a moment, waiting for the ringing to start up again, but to his relief nothing happened. The phone remained quiet. Erik let out a sigh of appreciation. In all probability, Alex had decided to give up on calling him and was now leaving a nonsensical, rambling, drunken message on his phone that Erik would have to delete without listening to at some point in the future.

And that was when the bar phone started to ring. 

Erik clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a brief moment, praying for patience. A moment later he opened his eyes and continued to serve the closest customer with admirable equanimity, even while the telephone rang loudly in the background. It was only when he had finished tending to his customers that he coolly wiped his hands off on a bar rag, turned around and plucked the phone from its cradle, brought it to his ear, and snarled a furious ‘ _What?_ ’ down the receiver.

‘Oh Christ, Erik, thank _fuck_ , I was about to have a fucking breakdown!’

Erik halted at the edge of hurling a torrent of abuse down the phone and instead paused, something about the nervous edge to Alex’s voice sobering him slightly. Whatever this was, it didn’t seem to be the drunken babble that he had expected. ‘What is it?’ he demanded, his tone sharp. ‘What’s happened? Are you alright?’

‘What? Yeah – yeah, man, I’m okay – I’m not the problem-’

‘Is it Hank?’

‘No, no – Hank’s fine for now, it’s just – Erik, it’s Charles.’

Erik went completely still, something cold and terrible suddenly inching its way down his spine. ‘Is – is he hurt?’ he choked out, grasping hold of the wall and trying to contain the terror clutching at his throat.

Alex made a startled, almost panicked noise at that. ‘Oh hell – no, Erik, nothing like that. Jesus, man, I’m sorry – look, no one’s hurt, okay? Everyone’s fine, totally fine, alright?’

Erik felt the panic immediately drain out of him and he shut his eyes, feeling deeply relieved. He was also annoyed as hell, naturally, but the predominant emotion that he was experiencing at that moment was one of relief. Feeling a bit more settled, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep, calming breath before he opened his eyes again, glaring at the wall in front of him. ‘Then what the hell are you doing bothering me like this?’ he growled, irritated. ‘And what did you mean about Charles? What about him?’

There was a moment of silence before Alex spoke, and this more than anything put Erik on edge. ‘Erik – it’s bad, man.’ Alex’s voice was tense and anxious, and Erik could almost picture him wringing his hands at the other end of the phone. ‘Seriously, you ought to get over here. You need to sort this out. Like – right now.’

Erik rubbed at his face and sighed, feeling tired. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be half as bad as Alex was attempting to make it sound. Certainly, there was no reason for him to abandon his customers and his business just because Alex told him to. ‘Explain,’ he said shortly, wondering whether he had been wrong to clear Alex too quickly of drunkenness.

‘Charles knows,’ Alex’s words spilled out in a breathless rush, as if he had been holding them in for far too long. ‘I tried to stop it from happening, but Erik – Charles knows.’

Erik blinked once, bemused, before then letting out an irritated sigh when Alex didn’t continue any further. ‘Charles knows _what_ , precisely?’ he asked with forced patience, nodding at a customer who was hovering uncertainly at the edge of the bar and then moving forward to take his order.

‘The bet!’ Alex’s voice was almost shrill as it echoed down the phone. ‘Charles knows about the bet!’

‘Bet?’ Erik asked distractedly, carefully filling up a beer glass before handing it over to a customer. ‘What bet?’

‘ _The_ bet!’ Alex hissed, sounding really quite agitated now. ‘ _Our_ bet! The one where we bet on whether or not you could get into Charles’s pants and which you then _won_ before you went ahead and kicked Charles out of your bar and started acting even crazier than usual. _That_ bet. Which is the same bet that Charles now knows about!’

‘What?’ Erik frowned, confused. ‘What are you talking about? I know Charles knows about the bet. Of course he kno…’ His voice stuttered to an abrupt stop. ‘Oh,’ he said, and his voice was suddenly taut and strained, little better than a whisper. ‘Oh shit. Oh _shit_.’

‘You’re telling me!’ Alex sounded almost as panicked as Erik. ‘You have to come here, Erik. You have to come here _now_!’

Erik shook his head dazedly, feeling lost and bewildered, and valiantly tried to focus on the one thing that currently made sense. ‘Are you mad?’ he protested. ‘Alex, I’m _working_. I can’t just – just _leave_. There’s no one to cover for me.’

‘I don’t care!’ Alex’s voice sounded strangled, even through the phone. ‘This is _Charles_ , man! Jesus, I can’t believe you didn’t tell him about this – I thought you came clean about everything, you _dick_!’

‘So did _I_!’ Erik snapped, finding it necessary to grab onto the nearest solid object next to him – in this case, the bartop – so that he didn’t sink down to the floor in despair. ‘I thought I told him about everything! _Obviously_ I forgot something!’

‘Forgot!’ Alex’s voice sounded tinny and high-pitched through the earpiece. ‘How the fuck do you forget something like _that_? I mean – _seriously_?’

‘I don’t know!’ Erik hissed, running his free hand through his hair and wresting it out of its previously neat, slicked-back arrangement. ‘ _I don’t know_ , do you understand? I meant to tell him everything, Alex – _everything_. And now …’ he trailed off, shaking his head, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. ‘Now he – are you _sure_ that he knows?’

‘Well if he doesn’t know yet then he’s sure as hell going to find out soon,’ Alex said tiredly, his voice low and unhappy. ‘Hank spilled the beans to Emma fucking Frost and now she’s on the warpath. Hank’s doing his best to keep Charles away from her but that will only work for so long and only if Frost hasn’t got to him already – which, considering she had about ten minutes head start on us, is pretty damn unlikely.’

Erik closed his eyes and brought a hand to his face. He could feel his world crashing down around him. He had worked so hard to build up his relationship with Charles, had worked so hard to become a better man, and now – now everything was completely and utterly ruined because of one stupid, honest mistake on his part and the combined efforts of his moronic assistant bartender and an overgrown man-child who couldn’t handle his liquor. 

‘I don’t believe it,’ he muttered blankly. ‘I don’t – I just …’ he shook his head, unable to say anything further.

‘Erik?’ Alex’s voice was low, cautious – almost nervous.

‘That bet,’ Erik said dully. ‘That fucking bet. It all – it always comes down to that fucking _bet_.’

‘Hey man, I get how you feel, I really do, but now’s not the time to lose it,’ Alex’s tone took on a note of urgency. ‘There’s still time – Emma might not have got to him yet-’

But Erik shook his head. ‘It’s over,’ he rasped, lowering his head numbly. ‘He knows. It’s over.’

‘Erik-’

‘He shouldn’t have found out that way,’ Erik’s breath hitched and his fists clenched. ‘He should have found out from _me_. I should have been the one to tell him.’

‘Then get your dumb ass over here and _tell him_!’

Erik shook his head. ‘What’s the point?’ he growled, glaring at the world around him. ‘If he already knows then he already hates me. Even if he doesn’t know now, Frost will find a way of telling him before the night is over.’ He had absolutely zero confidence in that idiot Hank’s ability to do _anything_ right, let alone evade Emma Frost. ‘It’s over, Alex. Everything’s over. It’s done.’

‘Not if you get your miserable ass here right now and _stop_ it from happening!’ Alex hissed. ‘Listen, I’ve been standing by the doorway ever since I found out what happened, and Charles hasn’t left yet – he’s still _here_ , Erik!’

‘So what?’ Erik asked gloomily.

‘ _So_ you need to get over here and _find_ him, you dumbass!’ Alex exploded, sounding completely exasperated. ‘You need to come here and find him, and either tell him about the bet or get on your damn knees and apologise, because you’ve come way too far and have made way too much progress to screw things up right now. You need to get here, Erik, and fucking _make things right_!’

Erik shook his head. ‘I can’t,’ he said, gazing down at the floor. ‘I _can’t_ , Alex. I’m working. I’m on my own here. I can’t just throw everyone out and leave. Besides,’ his voice was quieter now. ‘He’s – I can’t go to _Hellfire_ , Alex. You know I can’t.’

‘You mean you _won’t_ ,’ Erik cringed at the note of disgust that entered Alex’s voice. ‘Christ, Erik, you dumb bastard. You’re letting this happen. You’re letting this happen because you’re too much of a stubborn asshole to let go of your fucking pride and do what’s necessary. You goddamn stupid _bastard_.’

‘I know, okay?’ Erik snarled, unable to keep himself from being defensive despite knowing that every word that Alex was saying was true. ‘You’re right. Of course you’re fucking right, you smug little prick. Is that what you want to hear? That this is happening because of me and all of my terrible decisions. There, I said it. Are you happy?’

‘Happy?’ Alex’s anger appeared to be burning just as hot and fierce as Erik’s, his voice scathing and almost incredulous. ‘Oh yeah, sure. Because having just one of my friends hate me for betting on whether he’s an easy lay or not isn’t enough for me – no, I need to have one of my goddamn best friends hate me for having the balls to tell him the goddamn truth to his stupid, cowardly, asshole face! So yeah, I’m over the fucking _moon_ , Lehnsherr you stupid goddamn _bastard_.’

There was a moment of silence wherein neither Erik nor Alex said anything, both of them seemingly stunned by their mutual anger and vitriol. Only their harsh breathing was discernable through the phone, the both of them caught up in anger and shame and sadness.

‘I – I don’t hate you,’ Erik said after a moment, his voice stilted. ‘I mean, I’m not entirely pleased with you, but I don’t _hate_ you, Alex.’

‘Okay,’ Alex said in a small voice.

Erik swallowed and made a half-hearted attempt at humour. ‘Hank, on the other hand …’

Alex let out a sound like a hiccup and Erik could somehow feel the tension diffuse, even over the phone.

‘I meant what I said, though,’ Alex said abruptly, interrupting Erik’s thoughts. ‘About you being an idiot not to go to Charles. It’s just – you’ve worked so _hard_ for this, Erik. And Charles – I _know_ you don’t want Charles to find out from Emma. And he shouldn’t. You owe him that much, at least.’

Erik ran an exhausted hand through his hair. ‘Alex-’ he said weakly, closing his eyes.

‘You _owe_ him.’ Alex’s voice was gentle yet firm. ‘And you know it. Everything else doesn’t mean shit.’ He hesitated then, his voice turning softer. ‘Erik,’ he said quietly, 'I know you’re at work and that you don’t want to leave it, and I know that you hate _Hellfire_ more than almost anything else in the world, but you have to make a choice, man – you need to make it _now_. You need to figure out what is more important to you: _Genosha_ and your own pride, or Charles.’ He paused. ‘Because if Charles is at the top of that list of things that you can’t do without in the world … well, then you know what you have to do.’

Erik held himself still, his throat suddenly tight. He thought about the way Charles smiled, how his eyes would light up whenever he saw Erik and how his lips would turn up in a shy grin when amused. He thought about the way Charles’s eyes would crinkle when he laughed, how his mouth would twist when he was upset, how he would frown when studying a chessboard … how Erik couldn’t do without ever seeing any of those expressions ever again …

It turned out that Alex was right. In the end, it was simple.

Pulling his ear away from the phone, Erik turned around to face the bustling floor of _Genosha_ , and, without any hesitation, opened his mouth and roared:

‘Everybody _out_!’

*****

Fifteen minutes later, Erik found himself in front of the doors to _Hellfire_ , his face red and his heart pounding with both fear and exertion from his fevered run from _Genosha_.

‘Erik!’ 

Erik glanced up to see Alex’s relieved face staring at him from beyond the doorway, calling him in with urgent hand gestures. It took him a minute to sidestep the crowd outside and to move around the bouncer, but Erik eventually made it to Alex’s side, his breath still coming fast and hurried.

‘Man, you have no idea how relieved I am to see you,’ Alex said, shaking his head. ‘I mean, I was sure you would come – this is _Charles_ , after all – but still. It’s seriously good to see you here, man.’

Erik let out a small grunt in acknowledgement, even as he peered around the club with a frown. The loud music and the masses of people dancing on the floor meant that he had no idea where Charles was. ‘Do you know where Charles is?’ he asked Alex, still not removing his eyes from the dance-floor.

‘Um … kinda,’ Alex frowned. ‘Hank’s with him, so keep a look out for him and you’ll eventually spot them. Also,’ he hesitated and turned to Erik. ‘Just a heads up here, man, but – Steve is here.’

Erik blinked and turned away from the dance-floor to look at Alex. ‘Steve?’ he repeated blankly. At Alex’s grim nod, he sighed. ‘Great. Just what I needed.’ He rubbed tiredly at his face. ‘Do we have any idea if Charles has found out yet?’

Alex shook his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said, grimacing. ‘I can’t be sure either way. The fact that Hank’s not come running up to me, wringing his hands, is a good sign, but then I don’t know – maybe he’s just there cleaning up the mess. Or maybe he’s just too drunk to know what the heck he’s doing.’

‘That last one likely?’ 

Alex’s mouth twisted down wryly. ‘Yeah, more than. Sorry.’ 

Erik sighed. ‘Right. So how am I going to know if Charles knows or not?’

‘Dunno,’ Alex shrugged. ‘But if all else fails – and I know that this isn’t your strong suit, Erik, but – maybe you should just go off body language, you know? I mean, if Charles _does_ know? Then I’m pretty damn certain that you’ll be finding that out fast, no problem.’

Erik grimaced. ‘So what you’re saying is that I have to wait until Charles breaks my nose to be certain?’

Alex winced at the thought. ‘… Maybe you want to make that decision a _bit_ quicker than that,’ he ventured.

‘Thanks for the advice,’ Erik muttered, scowling down at the floor. He then took a deep breath and straightened up, setting his shoulders back. ‘Right then,’ he said, a look of determination on his face. ‘Let’s go find Charles.’

Alex bit his lip, looking more than a little apprehensive, but he nevertheless nodded firmly and followed Erik into the seething mass of bodies that had congregated on the floor.

It took them a good few minutes to find Charles, and in the end it was only because they caught sight of Hank hovering awkwardly at the edge of the room that they managed to spot him at all. They weren’t on the dance-floor like Erik had expected; instead, Charles was off to the side with Steve, standing in a shadowed corner of the club and engaging in what appeared to be a very intense conversation. Hank, meanwhile, was standing a few paces away, looking torn between awkwardness and a desire to fall asleep while standing up.

As soon as his eyes fell on Charles, Erik started forward, but he hadn’t taken one step before he paused. His eyes zeroed in on Charles’s face and his stomach suddenly sank. Charles was … upset. His face was screwed up in what appeared to be distress and his shoulders were slightly hunched. Steve, who was standing very close to him, had rested a gentle hand intimately on Charles’s shoulder and appeared to be soothing him, his eyes full of genuine earnest sympathy.

Erik felt the blood drain from his face. Charles knew. Emma had told him and now Charles knew what he had done.

And, as he watched Charles bring a hand to his face in anguish, Erik knew that he had to explain.

Without saying a word to Alex, he surged forward, all but shoving people out of the way in his desire to reach Charles. ‘Charles!’

At first Charles didn’t hear him, Erik’s voice being swallowed by the noise from the music and the crowd around them. However, when Erik called his name once again, coming to an abrupt halt in front of him and Steve, Charles was forced to look up in curiosity, and so Erik was able to witness his expression transform from worry into one of shock-

And Erik couldn’t take it.

‘Charles!’ he rasped out, reaching out with his hand but controlling himself at the last minute and drawing away, being all too aware of the fact that Charles most probably would not appreciate his touch right now. ‘Charles. I – I’m so sorry. I can _explain_!’

Charles’s eyebrows drew together, his nostrils flaring, and he opened his mouth to address him, but Erik couldn’t risk that he would try to stop him from explaining – from _apologising_. He couldn’t risk Charles walking away without hearing his explanation, even if he had to force Charles to hear it.

And so he got in first.

‘Charles, you have to believe me, I never meant for you to hear about it like this – I meant to _tell_ you-’

‘Erik-’

‘I thought I had told you everything, I never thought for a second that I was keeping anything back from you, especially not something like this …’ He took a deep breath, watching as Charles’s mouth slowly closed and his eyebrows drew even closer together and then he quickly hurried on, just in case Charles tried to interrupt him before he could get to the finish line. ‘You need to understand, Charles – I was a different man back then, before I realised how much you meant to me. You _know_ that I have always found you attractive – _always_ – so this has nothing to do with how I feel … I would _never_ have done this to you had I known – had I _realised_ – how special you are. And I will never do it to _anyone_ ever again, I swear it to you, Charles. I promise you.’

He paused again and watched helplessly as Charles shared a cold, indecipherable look with Steve.

Realising that he was running out of time, Erik allowed his shoulders to sag and he closed his eyes. ‘I know what you must think of me,’ he said quietly, unable to meet Charles’s eyes. ‘I know what I did was wrong. But Charles – you mustn’t blame Alex for this. This was _my_ fault, not his. _I_ am the reason that he made the bet. All he wanted was for me to stop terrorising him – that is all. He might have chosen you for the wager but _I_ am the one who accepted, and _I_ am the one who chose to sleep with you that night. And the person who I was back then might not have realised the _vileness_ of sleeping with someone for the sake of a bet, but now I _do_. I realise now that Alex could have chosen any single person in the bar for me to sleep with that night and it _still_ would have been abhorrent, but Charles – that fact that it was _you_ somehow makes it even worse.’ He swallowed and gazed at a cold and impassive Charles with wide, pleading eyes. ‘I was wrong to do what I did that night,’ he said, his throat tight. ‘But Charles, I’ve also realised now – even if I didn’t back then – that it was never just about the bet when it came to you. I didn’t know it at the time, but Charles – it’s _always_ been you.’

He came to a stuttering halt with that, his eyes boring into Charles and trying to convey the sheer intensity of just how much guilt and self-loathing he felt for his actions all those months ago. Everything else was blocked out – the sounds from the club, the music, Alex, Hank, and even Steve, even though he was standing right by Charles’s side. He had eyes only for Charles.

A moment of silence passed. And then, slowly, Charles raised his head and met Erik’s eyes.

‘You slept with me for a bet?’

His voice was quiet and low. Erik didn’t move, unsure whether or not Charles had uttered a statement or a question.

Charles’s voice, previously cold, now turned completely frigid. ‘I said, you _slept_ with me for a _bet_?’ His voice rose abruptly at the last word and Erik was suddenly able to see the startling flash of anger in Charles’s eyes, something that he had never previously seen, for all that he had hurt Charles so very many times before this.

‘I-’ Erik tried to answer but he found himself frozen, almost unable to speak. ‘I-’ He came to a sudden realisation which dawned on him in a flash of despair. ‘You – you didn’t know?’

Charles’s icy look was all the answer he needed. Some way, somehow, Emma Frost hadn’t reached him yet. Which meant …

‘Oh god,’ he breathed. He had ruined things, he had done it all wrong, he had wrecked things so completely … ‘Charles,’ he tried to keep his voice low and level. ‘Charles, we need to talk about this. I need – I need to speak to you, to let you know-’

‘Oh no,’ Charles’s voice was almost light; completely detached and even. ‘No, no, I think you have talked _quite_ enough.’

The way Charles said this made Erik’s heart sink even further in his chest.

‘Charles,’ he pleaded. ‘Please-’

‘No,’ Charles’s voice was suddenly back to being cold and frigid once again. ‘No, Erik, not this time. Not again. I told you before – this was your last chance. I am not doing this any more, Erik. It’s over. We’re done. I don’t want you to contact me again. It’s done.’

‘But-’ Erik struggled but it was no use. Alex and Hank had suddenly appeared at his side, gently holding him back, and just like that Erik knew it was over. Everything was over.

Charles didn’t even look at him as he pushed his way past them. He simply swept past Erik, his shoulders tight, with Steve Rogers faithfully following at his back. Within a matter of seconds he was gone, swallowed up by the oblivious crowd behind them, as if he had never been there at all.

Erik held himself completely still for a moment, a thousand recriminatory thoughts running through his head all at once. Then, with both Hank and Alex watching him anxiously, he slowly lowered his head and covered it with his hands.

It was quite some time before he was able to bring his head back up again.

‘Come on, man,’ Alex’s voice was quiet and almost gentle. ‘Come on, let’s get you out of here.’

Erik allowed them to steer him away from the dance-floor and out of the club, unable to even summon up the will or the energy to glare at either of them. Twenty minutes later, he was back at home, in his clean, neat apartment, staring blankly at the bare chessboard in front of him, feeling completely numb.

The chessboard appeared to call to him, its gleaming black and white squares reminding him of all the times that Charles had sat across from him while they played, how he had smiled, how their fingers had brushed over the squares … how he was now alone in his own flat staring at a blank chessboard and reliving memories that were now all he had of someone who had become, in spite of everything, the person that Erik cared most about in the world.

Erik looked down at the innocent board in front of him, recalling each smile and laugh and touch that had been shared over it. He blinked. And then he seized hold of the chessboard and, without even looking, threw it in the nearest bin before then walking away.

He had no desire to play chess ever again.


	18. Chapter 18

The days that followed were pretty much the worst that anyone could remember. Erik appeared to be completely numb, moving about the bar like an automaton, as if blind to the world around him. Alex and Hank, who had never seen him like this before, were more than a little alarmed by this behaviour, and by unspoken consent they each found themselves hovering around Erik throughout the day, making sure to never leave him alone for too long a time. Not that they imagined he would do anything, of course, but they nevertheless wanted to show their support for him in any way that they could. 

Erik’s numbness lasted the better part of two days; after that came the rage. After the cold stillness of hs earlier mood, Alex and Hank were almost glad to see this new phase in Erik’s disposition. Unfortunately for them, Erik’s anger was targeted almost exclusively in their direction. Hank and Alex therefore spent the rest of the week in disgrace, tiptoeing about the bar as quietly as they could, hardly daring to do so much as look Erik in the eye for fear of igniting his temper. 

Not that Erik expressed his anger at all violently. In fact, after the initial outburst – which had involved a great deal of swearing and a good deal of shattered glassware – Erik had gone strangely silent. He moved about the bar with sharp, brisk motions and communicated with customers through low grunts and nods, but he wouldn’t say a word to either Hank or Alex. At first they had been relieved: anything, they felt, would be better than the eerie numbness from earlier, and after the last week they could well appreciate that the silent treatment was a thousand times better having an empty beer glass shatter inches from your head. However, as the days went by, they found themselves becoming more and more anxious.

Erik wouldn’t talk to them. He wouldn’t so much as look at them. It was almost worse than the numbness – at least then Erik had been cold to everyone. Now, however, it was just them. It was as if, in Erik’s mind, they no longer existed.

‘You _know_ things are fucked up when you _want_ Erik to try and crack you over the head with a beer bottle,’ Alex muttered miserably, eyeing Erik with an almost wistful expression on his face. 

‘I’m worried about him,’ Hank confessed, looking equally unhappy. ‘This isn’t what I expected at all.’ He hesitated. ‘Has he tried to approach Charles, do you know?’

Alex didn’t, and he said as much. There was really no way of knowing: Erik, after all, wouldn’t even tell Alex to clean the toilets, let alone inform him about his plans to win back Charles.

Unbeknownst to both Hank and Alex, however, Erik hadn’t remained idle. After his period of misery-induced numbness, Erik had come back to himself and had quickly realised that there was no way that he could allow things to end like this. Not with Charles and certainly not after everything that had happened. 

And so he had reached out. He had called and called, but he somehow never got through and, soon enough, his calls were blocked. Erik had next tried the university where Charles taught, hoping to catch him as he left for lunch, but to no avail. He had waited and waited and waited, only to find out that Charles had not been in for days –he was, apparently, currently taking a ‘leave of absence’ for an unspecified duration of time, according to the elderly receptionist – leaving Erik slightly lost and anxious. 

He became slightly more desperate after that. On the Friday immediately following the debacle of the previous week, Erik had swallowed his pride and had gone to wait outside _Hellfire_ , hoping to catch a glimpse of Charles before he disappeared into the club’s depths to be kept under the watchful eye of a furiously protective Emma Frost. Charles, however, did not show. He didn’t arrive when the club opened and he still wasn’t there when the club closed. It was only then, after hours of waiting outside in the cold whilst being glared at by a very suspicous bouncer, that Erik decided that it was time to finally bite the bullet and do what he had been trying to avoid doing from the start: 

He needed to seek out Charles in his home.

Erik had only been to Charles’s home once, on the fateful night of the bet. Despite this, he found that he was easily able to recall the way there, the address having been subconsciously imprinted into his mind without his realising it. Every step he took, however, made the weight in his stomach grow heavier. There was a reason that Charles had never invited him back since that night, after all, and Erik was wary of invading Charles’s space by attempting to approach him there.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, however, and Erik was nothing if not desperate. He was well aware that his determination to speak to Charles was bordering on selfish, but he could not help himself. He needed to find Charles and explain to him what had happened. He needed to make sure that Charles knew that Erik’s feelings for him were genuine and that the man who had made that cruel, terrible bet was not the man that he was today. And so it was that Erik forced himself to make the long walk up to Charles’s door and, after a moment’s hesitation, knock on it.

At first there was no answer. 

Erik swallowed. ‘Charles?’ he called uncertainly, hoping that his voice would penetrate the thick wood of the door. 

Still no one answered. 

It was quite possible that no one was home, of course. Erik, however, had seen the light from the window as he had passed and, although it was possible that Charles had accidentally left the light on before he had left the house, Erik thought that it was much more likely that Charles was indeed inside and was simply choosing not to respond.

It appeared, then, that they were at an impasse, for Charles was determined not to answer and Erik was determined not to go away until Charles answered. 

‘Charles,’ Erik rapped on the door a bit more loudly. ‘Charles, please open the door.’

The door remained shut.

Erik let out a sigh. He didn’t need to glance around to know that he was receiving more than a few curious glances from Charles’s neighbours, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself not to think about it. Erik had never before cowered in the face of public disapproval and he certainly wasn’t going to start now. Steeling himself for more of the attention that he would inevitably draw, he prepared to raise his voice even louder, determined to draw Charles out by one way or another – when suddenly the door opened.

‘Char-’ Erik began, his voice tinged with relief, before he abruptly stopped.

The man opening Charles’s door was not Charles.

It was Charles’s boyfriend, Steve.

Erik stared bemusedly at the man in front of him. The man – Steve – stared placidly back at him.

‘Wh-’ Erik started, only for Steve to interrupt him.

‘What do you want?’ he asked quietly, and Erik, who had only ever seen his face bear an expression of easy-going pleasantness was almost surprised to see the cold, suspicious look in the other man’s eyes.

Erik pushed down the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach and straightened up almost unconsciously. ‘I’m Eri-’

‘I know who you are,’ Steve said plainly, interrupting him for the second time in a row. ‘And I’m pretty sure that you know who I am, too.’

Erik, slightly taken aback by this, didn’t immediately answer. This, however, seemed to be all the confirmation that Steve needed.

‘You know,’ he said thoughtfully, looking at Erik and cocking his head to the side as if considering something. ‘I’m not someone who usually decks a guy before he takes a swing at me first, but on this occasion-’

And before Erik had figured out what exactly it was that Steve intended, he found himself flat on the floor, stars dancing in front of his eyes and a jaw that seemed to have been whacked by a sledgehammer.

‘Christ!’ Erik wheezed out, angry and bewildered all at once. ‘ _Fuck!_ What the fuck did you do that for?’

Steve didn’t say anything. He simply folded his arms and stared down at Erik dispassionately.

Erik glowered at him. ‘Fine, I get it,’ he muttered, clutching at his jaw and slowly pulling himself to his feet, slightly wary of Steve’s continued proximity. ‘I deserved that. I know it, you know it. Can we now move the fuck on?’

Steve, his arms still crossed, merely raised an eyebrow. 

‘Right,’ Erik grimaced as he straightened up, realising the stupidity of his request. ‘Never mind.’ He scowled down at his feet, trying to stamp down the urge to shuffle awkwardly, determined not to do so while still faced with the present company.

Steve remained unmoved. ‘I will ask you again,’ he said placidly, as if he had not just decked Erik less than a minute ago. ‘Why are you here?’

Erik, realising that this was his chance to plead his case, immediately straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. ‘I want to see Charles,’ he announced, trying to figure out the line between quiet confidence and unwarranted arrogance. From the look on Steve’s face, it seemed that he hadn’t figured it out quickly enough. ‘Please,’ he added hurriedly, ignoring how a small, prideful part of his mind smarted slightly at having to plead with _Steve_ of all people. Firmly squashing this small, unhelpful part of himself down, Erik allowed some of the desperation that he was feeling to show on his face as he addressed Steve with as much sincerity as he could muster. ‘I need to see him,’ he said earnestly, swallowing tightly. ‘I need to tell him – I need to explain what happened … I need to, I need -’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Steve said coldly, cutting Erik off before he could say anything further. ‘I’m not asking about what you want to say to Charles. I am asking you why you are doing _this_. What are your reasons for coming here? What do you _want_?’

Erik, who had been just about to say something scathing about the frequency of Steve’s interruptions, went completely still. He didn’t know how to answer that. Not to _Steve_ at any rate. After all, it probably wasn’t going to help his case if he were to confess his love for Charles in front of Charles’s _boyfriend_ – especially since Erik had never actually got around to actually confessing his love to Charles in the first place. 

He licked his lips, struggling with himself; torn between the instinctive desire to lie and the knowledge that anything less than the truth would be unacceptable at this point. 

Luckily for him, however, Steve continued speaking before Erik could even formulate a coherent response. ‘I mean, I have to say,’ Steve gave Erik a disapproving – and strangely almost _sad_ – look. ‘What I’m hearing here is just plain self-centred.’ At Erik’s look of confusion he continued. ‘It looks like all you care about is making _yourself_ feel better. All you’re talking about is what _you_ need. _You_ need to see Charles, _you_ need to talk to him … You’re not really taking into account what _he_ needs here, are you?’

Erik felt something in his stomach sink. Nevertheless, he could not let things lie like this. ‘I don’t think you are being fair,’ he said quietly, meeting Steve’s eyes and not allowing his own to drop in the face of the piercing, assessing blue gaze. ‘Perhaps I am being selfish in not allowing Charles his space, but it’s not solely for my own sake that I am here.’ He swallowed. ‘I think – I think that Charles _needs_ to hear my explanation. Perhaps even more than _I_ need to _give_ it. He needs to understand – he _deserves_ to understand the context of – of what happened. He deserves to see that my behaviour had absolutely nothing to do with him and absolutely everything to do with my own stupidity.’ Here Erik paused and took a deep breath, not allowing himself to glance away from Steve’s eyes. ‘I’m not here searching for forgiveness,’ he said quietly, feeling the truth of the words settle inside him even as he said them. ‘I’m not so blinded as to expect it, or even to think that I deserve it. I am here simply because of Charles. Because he deserves to know the truth and he deserves to – to be able to move on from this knowing – knowing how _special_ he is.’ Erik stopped there, forcing his mouth shut and he finally glanced away, unable to look Steve in the eye any longer.

Steve did not say anything for a long moment. He simply stood in the doorway, regarding Erik with an almost unreadable expression on his face. Then, after a moment, his eyes softened.

‘I understand,’ he said quietly, meeting Erik’s eyes with something almost resembling sympathy, which was almost too much for Erik to bear. ‘And I get the feeling that you’re actually being sincere about this … that you really _do_ care about Charles.’ Erik glanced away at that. Steve watched him for a moment before the softness in his features disappeared and he instead stood firm and stern, his expression almost severe. ‘But none of that matters now. All that matters is what _Charles_ wants and right now what Charles wants is to be left alone.’

‘But-’

‘No buts,’ Steve said firmly.

‘You haven’t even _asked_ him,’ Erik protested, feeling his frustration and anxiety returning once more. ‘You haven’t even _told_ him who-’

‘He knows it’s you,’ Steve said quietly. ‘He heard you knocking and calling for him. If he had wanted to see you then he would have come and opened the door himself. As it is, the only reason why I am here is because he thought it likely that you wouldn’t leave without a little … encouragement.’

‘Oh, so now you’re his _bouncer_?’ Erik sneered, unable to stop himself, the tightness in his chest feeding the helpless anger that clutched at him.

Steve did not look at all moved by Erik’s remark. ‘If that’s what Charles needs,’ he said equably, looking at Erik with an all too understanding expression. ‘Which, at the moment, seems to be the case.’

Erik deflated. ‘Right,’ he mumbled, feeling slightly shamefaced. ‘Of course.’

There was a moment of awkward silence as the two of them looked away from the other, not knowing what to say.

‘For what it’s worth,’ Steve said eventually, his voice low and almost hesitant. ‘I do appreciate what you are doing here. How you want to make this right for Charles’s sake, not yours. And I guess – I guess you’re not exactly the horse’s backside that I kinda imagined you to be.’

Erik huffed out a dry laugh at that. ‘Thanks,’ he said, raising his shoulders in a hapless sort of shrug. ‘That’s … probably one of the kinder things that people have said about me.’

Something like a smile flickered around Steve’s mouth. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Well – take care then.’

Erik nodded, knowing that he was being dismissed. Swallowing ruefully, he took a step backwards, turning away from the door and making to leave. Before he could go much further, however, Steve’s voice halted him.

‘Oh, and Mr. Lehnsherr?’ 

Erik immediately turned back again, unable to suppress the quickening beat of his heart. This rapid patter, however, was summarily halted when he saw the look on Steve’s face.

Steve’s expression was solemn as he regarded Erik, though his eyes were gentle and not entirely unsympathetic. ‘Please don’t come here again,’ he said quietly, and although soft, the tone nevertheless cut through the air with the sharpness of a knife. 

His final message delivered, Steve slowly began to withdraw. As Erik watched, he took a step backwards and, with one last glance at Erik, he slipped back through the front door, closing it with a subdued _click_ behind him.

Erik stood on the same spot for a moment, looking blankly at the now-closed door. Then, a minute later, he turned on his heel and quietly walked away, his shoulders hunched forward and his hands tucked tightly into the pockets of his coat, the collar obscuring any expression that might have otherwise been seen on his face.

*****

Erik only made one more trip to Charles’s after that. He spent the entire day camped out in front of Charles’s door, deliberately flouting Steve’s rule in defiance, but no one answered the door and no one entered or left.

It was only when night was descending that one of Charles’s neighbours carefully approached him and told him Charles had packed a bag and left his apartment the very day after Erik’s visit, although his destination was entirely unknown.

It was a few days after this that Erik learnt, after unintentionally listening in on one of Alex and Hank’s conversations, that Charles hadn’t left town or run away or any of the things that his feverish brain had imagined. 

Instead, it seemed, Charles was now staying with Steve.

It was upon finding this out that Erik, respected proprietor of a drinking establishment and possessor of an iron constitution, did what he had not done for almost twenty years.

He got well and truly, brain-cell-corruptingly drunk and passed out face-first in a puddle of his own drool in the middle of his hallway with all his clothes on.

And then he stopped showing up at work.


	19. Chapter 19

It had been over a week since Erik had stopped turning up at work and Alex was not at all happy. At first he and Hank had thought it best to just leave Erik to his sulking, hoping that he would eventually pull himself out of it and get himself together, but that didn’t seem to be what was happening. They had tried calling Erik once but the only time that Erik had picked up, he had started slurring gibberish at them and had continued to do so for five whole minutes before abruptly hanging up, leaving Alex and Hank staring bemusedly at each other.

By the end of the week, however, both Alex and Hank had progressed past the _laissez-faire_ approach and had moved from being patiently tolerant to being genuinely worried about Erik’s mental state.

‘What if he becomes a hermit?’ Alex had whispered anxiously, eyeing Hank with muted panic. ‘What if he holes up in his apartment and never comes out again? _I_ can’t run this place, Hank, I _can’t_. I seriously can’t listen to Cassidy’s screeching on Karaoke Thursday for every week for the _rest of my life_ , I’ll go insane, I swear. We need to get Erik out of there, Hank, we need to freaking _do_ something!’

Hank had been in full agreement (he had _heard_ Sean Cassidy singing and he wouldn’t wish that on _anyone_ , let alone Alex) and, furthermore, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for what was happening. He was the one who had let the cat out of the bag, after all, and now Erik was paying the price for it. 

‘Okay,’ he said, nodding fiercely and raising his chin with something almost like confidence. ‘You’re right, this can’t go on. We’ll need to do something about it.’ 

And so the two of them had put their heads together and, after a great deal of arguing, worrying and, finally, collaborating, they had come up with The Plan.

The following afternoon found them outside Erik’s apartment, knocking gingerly on the door and then eyeing each other anxiously when it was not immediately opened.

‘Dude,’ Alex whispered, looking distinctly unnerved as the minutes ticked by. ‘What if he’s dead?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Hank whispered back immediately, although he too looked unsettled by the idea. ‘Of course he’s not dead.’ He then blinked. ‘Well – he’s _probably_ not dead,’ he amended.

Alex still looked doubtful though, so Hank simply shook his head and, raising his fist, knocked sharply on the door.

‘Erik?’ he called, the confidence in his voice belied by the tentative lift in his tone. ‘Erik, it’s us – Alex and Hank.’

‘Don’t tell him who it is!’ Alex hissed, glaring at Hank. ‘Or have you forgotten that he kind of _hates_ us at the moment? _Bozo_.’

Before Hank could respond, however, a noise like a groan sounded from through the door, catching them both unawares. Sharing a glance, Alex and Hank turned back to the door. 

‘Erik?’ Alex asked, his tone low. ‘Erik, it’s us.’

There was another groan and then a noise like a thump. Then came the slow, muffled thud of footsteps until at last there was the sound of someone fumbling at the latch. A moment later, the door creaked open.

‘Fucking _finally_ ,’ Alex grumbled, pushing his way through, followed closely by Hank. ‘It damn well took you long eno- _whoa_.’ He stared at Erik, wide-eyed. ‘Dude. What happened to _you_?’

Erik blinked his crusty, red-rimmed and bleary eyes and glared at them from behind week-old ginger scruff. ‘What?’ he grunted, reaching up to scratch himself through the worn material of his pyjamas. 

Alex was speechless. ‘Just-’ he shook his head, appalled. ‘ _Dude._ ’

‘I think what Alex is trying to say,’ Hank said faintly. ‘Is that you – you look …’ He trailed off, searching hard for the right word.

‘Like shit,’ Alex said bluntly, interrupting him, his unblinking eyes still fixed on Erik’s form as if mesmerised. ‘You look like complete and utter shit. _That’s_ what I was trying to say.’

Erik’s eyes narrowed. ‘Fuck off,’ he said flatly. He then turned around and ambled his way back to the sofa in the middle of the room where he appeared to have spent the night … or several nights rather, Hank thought with a wrinkle of his nose, eyeing the minefield of empty beer bottles that surrounded Erik’s new sleeping place.

‘Wow,’ Alex was also staring at the number of bottles around Erik, his eyes wide. ‘You really drank all of that?’ Hank shot him a glare at the almost reverent tone in his voice. ‘How are you even conscious right now?’

Erik turned to glare at them from where he had collapsed on the sofa. ‘Fuck off,’ he said again, before burying his head into the softness of the cushion beneath him.

Alex frowned. ‘Are you still drunk?’ he demanded, putting his hands on his hips and staring incredulously at the back of Erik’s head. ‘Are you seriously drunk at-’ he paused and raised his wrist in front of his face so that he could see his watch, ‘- three fucking thirty in the afternoon?’

Erik’s head slowly turned back, revealing his glaring face to the two of them. ‘No,’ he muttered grumpily. ‘I’m not drunk.’ There was a pause. ‘’m hungover.’

Hank and Alex shared a look.

‘At least that means he stopped drinking,’ Hank said, trying to sound positive.

Erik glared at them and returned his face to the cushion seat, hiding away from sight.

‘Dude,’ Alex whispered, his eyes still on the back of Erik’s head. ‘I don’t think that the stopping was voluntary.’ He indicated the floor next to Erik’s sofa. ‘The only reason he’s stopped drinking is because he’s run out of things to drink.’ He grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t a drop of beer left in the whole damn building.’

Erik seemed to have caught the tail end of his words as he roused himself again and looked over at them. ‘There isn’t,’ he grunted flatly. ‘So get out and don’t even think about returning without bringing any beer with you. Or whisky.’ He then paused, considering. ‘Or _anything_. Just make it alcoholic.’ His head fell back on the sofa and he proceeded to ignore them again.

Alex and Hank glanced at each other.

‘I am not bringing him any more alcohol,’ Hank said immediately, his tone firm. ‘The man’s lucky if he doesn’t have alcohol poisoning already. And I refuse to contribute to the deterioration of his liver.’

‘Hey, I’m not asking you to,’ Alex raised his hands in the air. ‘That’s not what we’re here for either, or have you forgotten? All we need to do right now is figure a way to get him out of the apartment.’ His expression dimmed somewhat as he looked at the figure slumped over on the sofa, his eyes lingering on the dirty clothes and the ragged appearance. ‘… Which may be a little bit harder than we originally thought it would be.’

They both turned and looked at Erik. He presented a sorry picture – a dirty, unkempt man sprawled out on a sofa surrounded by dozens of empty bottles of beer. It was a far cry from the usually impeccable Erik that they were used to. It was rather unsettling to see.

‘Well,’ Hank said after a solid minute of staring. ‘We’d better get started, hadn’t we?’

Alex’s face set into a look of determination. ‘Okay,’ he said, nodding to himself. ‘Okay, let’s get him out of here.’

Together, they approached the sofa.

‘Erik?’ Hank called softly, trying his best to avoid aggravating Erik any further that he needed to whilst he was hung-over. ‘Erik, are you awake?’

There was no movement for a moment and they were almost convinced that Erik had passed out when there came a small grunt from the sofa.

‘Hey man,’ Alex said, slightly relieved. ‘How about we make you some breakfast, huh? Something hot with lots of grease? How’s that sound?’

The only response was a groan from the sofa cushion.

‘Have you eaten at all in the past few days, Erik?’ Hank asked cautiously, peering around and trying to catch a look at Erik’s face.

There was no answer.

‘Well, this isn’t working,’ Alex said snidely, glaring resentfully at the lump on the sofa.

Hank was eyeing Erik thoughtfully. ‘Maybe that’s because he doesn’t care about food,’ he said slowly. ‘I mean – look around. There’s only bottles here. Food isn’t a priority right now.’

‘… But _drink_ is,’ Alex said slowly, his eyes lighting up. He turned and looked at the bottles on the floor. ‘And Erik doesn’t _have_ anything around here right now …’

Their eyes met.

‘Hey, Erik,’ Alex said, spinning around and facing the man curled up in front of him. ‘How about a beer, man?’

There was a pause. And then Erik slowly lifted his head. ‘Ergh?’ he made an indecipherable questioning noise.

‘Yeah,’ Alex continued, giving Hank a meaningful look. ‘I mean, we’re just about to head back to _Genosha_. You know, where there’s all that beer.’

‘And whisky,’ Hank piped up helpfully.

‘Yeah, that too,’ Alex agreed. ‘And – well, you know what we’ve got in stock. You’re the one in charge of that place.’

Erik still looked rather blank.

‘I think you have to be a bit clearer about what you’re saying,’ Hank leaned forward and whispered in Alex’s ear.

‘Right,’ Alex nodded. He directed his attention back at Erik. ‘You’ve run out of booze, man,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders and regarding Erik frankly. ‘I don’t know how much you had here, but I’m betting that you’ve drunk it all.’ 

Erik scowled at him but didn’t say anything.

‘We’re not saying that you need to stop with the whole … drunken hobo thing you’ve got going on,’ Alex said, gesturing vaguely to the scene in front of him. ‘But if you want anything else to drink, you’re gonna have to go get it yourself.’ He paused. ‘Or else come with us to _Genosha_ where we can keep an eye on you.’

Erik blinked and then glared balefully at him, apparently not impressed by the choices that he was being given.

‘It’s in your best interests to come with us to _Genosha_ ,’ Hank said earnestly, trying to meet Erik’s eyes. ‘That way we can take care of you and make sure you don’t pass out or get hurt.’ He cringed a little at the scathing look that Erik sent his way; apparently it was just as effective at cowing people even when delivered half-drunk and hung-over. 

It was clear that appealing to Erik’s common sense was not working. Hank sighed and rubbed at his nose. ‘There’s also an unlimited supply of alcohol there,’ he said resignedly, closing his eyes.

Erik’s expression abruptly became speculative.

‘Oh yeah,’ Alex quickly jumped in, wanting to strike while the iron was still hot. ‘We have loads of the stuff. _Gallons_ of it. Even _you_ couldn’t drink it all.’

Erik sent Alex a withering look but he appeared to be considering their words.

‘We’ll give you a lift to the bar,’ Hank said winningly, hoping this would make Erik’s decision easier.

Erik let out a grunt.

‘We’ll keep really, really quiet and won’t say a word the whole way there?’ Hank added tentatively.

Erik paused at that, blinking, and then nodded. ‘Fine,’ he muttered, slowly dragging himself up from where he had been lying prostrate on the sofa. ‘Let’s go.’

Alex and Hank shared a look of mixed relief and triumph. The look quickly changed to one of distaste, however, as Erik’s approach abruptly alerted them to the alcoholic miasma that surrounded him, permeating through his clothes and hair. He was, in a word, disgusting.

‘Yeah,’ Alex said with a grimace, taking a step away from Erik. ‘Maybe you should take a minute to – you know – get yourself cleaned up first, or something?’

Erik blinked, his expression still bleary and tired. ‘What?’ he growled, looking peevish. ‘What’s wrong with me?’

Hank and Alex exchanged a look.

‘Maybe we ought to get you a mirror …’ Hank murmured, as they both reached forward and took Erik by the arms.

‘And some soap,’ Alex added fervently as they steered Erik towards the bathroom. ‘Lots and lots of soap.’

It was going to be a long afternoon.

*****

Two hours later, Erik entered _Genosha_ with a relieved Hank and Alex by his side, freshly washed, brushed and shaved and with a fresh set of clothes on. His eyes were still slightly bloodshot and his temper wasn’t even close to being pleasant, but the others still counted it a triumph that they had managed to do this much: the lure of alcohol had gone a long way to making Erik quite placid and amenable when it had come to making him presentable.

Unfortunately, this placidity completely disappeared the moment that Erik entered the bar and caught sight of the two people sitting at the booth straight in front of him.

‘What the fuck are _they_ doing here?’ Erik growled, his hackles rising and a hunted look suddenly appearing on his face. ‘I thought I was here to _drink_.’

Alex simply shrugged. ‘Sorry man,’ he said, sounding completely unrepentant. ‘But you’ve already had way too much. This has gone on for too long as it is. It needs to stop.’ He paused and then nodded at the table in front of him. ‘And _they_ agree.’

‘What the hell do _they_ know about it?’ Erik hissed, clenching his hands into fists and glaring at the two people in the booth. ‘What business is it of _theirs_?’

At that, Emma Frost, who had been sitting in the corner seat of the booth while delicately sipping a white wine, raised her eyebrow. ‘What do we know?’ she repeated slowly. She turned to the other occupant of the booth who was sitting beside her. ‘Why, I’m not sure. Moira, sugar – what _do_ we know about stubborn little fools who make everyone else miserable with their moping and their melodrama?’

‘Quite a lot, I’d say, Emma,’ Moira answered lightly, taking a sip from her drink and glancing coolly over at Erik. ‘More than you might think.’

Emma’s lips quirked into a cool smile at that but it disappeared a moment later. ‘Well,’ she said, turning to Erik and arching an eyebrow at him. She indicated the seat opposite her. ‘Come on then. We haven’t got all day, you know.’

‘You’ve taken long enough already,’ Moira added, her tone disapproving even though her expression remained neutral.

‘Hey, that is so not our fault!’ Alex raised his hands defensively as if to pre-empt any accusations heading his way. ‘We needed to get him cleaned up before he left the house. Or would _you_ have wanted to have to sit next a guy who looks like he’s been sleeping on benches and living off beer for the past few weeks?’

‘He smelled like it too,’ Hank added, wincing apologetically as Erik turned to glare at him. ‘And he probably has been living off beer for the last couple of weeks.’

‘Hmm,’ Emma eyed Erik speculatively, her face giving away nothing. ‘Interesting.’ Then she abruptly turned to Alex and Hank and met their eyes. ‘Nice work, boys,’ she said briskly. ‘We’ll take it from here.’

‘Wait, what?’ Erik demanded, his eyes narrowing.

‘Sorry, boss,’ Alex shrugged, smirking. ‘But we’ve got a bar to run.’ He reached out and clapped Erik on the shoulder, ignoring the growl that Erik emitted upon contact. ‘Don’t worry, these ladies will take good care of you.’

‘We’ll just be right over there,’ Hank said soothingly, pointing at the bar, only to cringe a little at the dirty look that Erik sent his way.

‘Go on then,’ Moira said, after Alex and Hank and left and made their way over to the bar. ‘Sit down.’

Still Erik hovered.

Emma rolled her eyes. ‘Sit down, Lehnsherr,’ she said coldly, pointing at the seat in front of her. ‘We have a lot to talk about.’

‘Like what?’ Erik grumbled, reluctantly folding himself into the seat opposite Emma and Moira and regarding them warily.

‘I think you know,’ Moira said quietly, meeting his eyes.

Erik immediately glanced away, scowling down at the table as his ears reddened slightly. ‘Oh I am _perfectly_ aware of what you have to say to me,’ he said bitterly, unable to keep the feeling of self-loathing from overtaking him once again. ‘But, if you’ll excuse me saying so, I have no desire to actually hear you say it.’ He paused, glancing down at his hands tiredly before drawing in a ragged breath. ‘Believe me, there’s nothing that you can say that I haven’t already said to myself,’ he said quietly, not meeting their eyes.

Emma and Moira exchanged a look.

‘I can’t say that we’re not pleased about that,’ Emma said after a moment. ‘Because we are. Immensely pleased, in fact. Nevertheless,’ she paused. ‘We are not _completely_ without sympathy for you.’

Erik’s head jerked up at that, surprised.

‘You see,’ Emma continued calmly, ‘We have been talking, Moira and I, and we have come to the-’

‘Shouldn’t we make the call first?’ Moira interrupted her before Emma could finish. ‘Before we continue, I mean.’

Emma blinked and then nodded. ‘Ah, yes. Of course.’ She then reached down to the table in front of her where, Erik noticed for the first time, a sleek silver tablet lay positioned, waiting to be used. Emma picked the tablet up and immediately started tapping at it, her focus on the screen in front of her.

‘What are you doing?’ Erik demanded, immediately growing suspicious.

Emma glanced up from the screen and smirked. ‘You’ll see.’

A moment later, she turned the screen around so that it was facing Erik. As he watched, bemused, the screen shifted and there in front of him was, bewilderingly, the face of beautiful young woman with long blonde hair, gazing up at him curiously.

Erik blinked, bewildered. ‘Who the fuck are you?’ he demanded, glaring at the tablet.

The girl did not seem to be at all put off by Erik’s brusque greeting. Instead, she simply cocked her head and smiled pleasantly at him. ‘I’m Raven Xavier,’ she said easily, smile still on her face even as Erik, with a jolt of realisation, felt his heart slowly sink. ‘I’m Charles’s sister.’ She paused then, her easy smile suddenly replaced with narrowed, glinting eyes. ‘I’m also the girl that’s going to hunt you down and kick your ass back to the Stone Age when I get back home,’ she said conversationally, sending him an almost feral grin.

Erik resisted the urge to wince. ‘I’m surprised your not here already,’ he mumbled, scowling down at the floor.

‘Oh, I would be,’ Raven said immediately, her expression completely open and honest. ‘But _some_ people-’ here she glared at the corner of the screen even though she couldn’t actually see either Emma or Moira, ‘-convinced me that it wouldn’t be a good idea.’

‘Don’t take it out on us, sugar,’ Emma drawled, coolly regarding her fingernails. ‘You know perfectly well what Charles would do if you came back all this way just for him.’

‘Yeah,’ Moira added dryly, ‘And he’s got more than enough people to be mad at without adding _us_ to the count.’ She glanced pointedly over at Erik, who had the grace to look shamefaced.

‘I’m not going to argue about that,’ he said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. ‘We can all agree that what I did – well. We all know what that was. I just wish …’ he fumbled slightly with the words, ‘– I wish that it hadn’t had to come out the way that it did.’

They all grimaced.

‘Yeah, that was really shitty,’ Raven’s voice was grim as she shook her head. ‘It shouldn’t have happened like that. The bet part was bad enough – but for it to come out like that …’

‘It shouldn’t have happened,’ Emma agreed, glaring at Erik. ‘God knows what you were thinking, announcing it out loud like that. Nobody came out well from _that_ debacle.’

Erik glanced up at her in a mixture of surprise and indignation. ‘I was thinking about _you_ ,’ he said, unable to keep the irritation from seeping into his voice. ‘I was thinking about you running over to Charles and telling him what I had done before I could explain and apologise!’

‘I would have done no such thing!’ Emma snapped, sitting up in her seat and glaring indignantly.

Erik scoffed at that. ‘Oh really,’ he drawled, looking at Emma with dislike. ‘Like you weren’t planning on letting him know the moment that you found out.’

‘Oh I was,’ Emma sneered. ‘But I wouldn’t have told him like that. I wouldn’t have _told_ him. Period.’

‘… You wouldn’t have told him,’ Erik repeated, disbelievingly.

Emma tossed her head. ‘No,’ she said haughtily. ‘I wouldn’t.’ She paused then and turned to Erik and with a sneer. ‘I would have made _you_ do it.’

Erik looked at her in surprise. ‘What?’ he said.

‘You heard me,’ Emma said, sniffing. ‘I would have made _you_ tell Charles.’ She glared at him. ‘It’s the least that you could do.’

Erik frowned. ‘So –’ he hesitated. ‘So you weren’t going to tell Charles that night?’

Emma’s lips thinned but she didn’t speak immediately, taking a moment to consider. ‘Well,’ she said at last. ‘I can’t deny that I was terribly angry after your friend Hank told me what you had done – and I admit that my first instinct _was_ to go over and tell Charles …’

Erik’s eyes narrowed. ‘But …’ he said cautiously.

‘ _But_ ,’ Emma nodded, ‘I had enough sense at the time to first call Moira and talk to her about it before I made any sudden decisions about Charles.’ She frowned. ‘I was very angry, of course, but I knew how happy Charles had been while having you as a friend and I – I didn’t want to ruin that. So I called Moira and we eventually agreed that we would corner you and force you to confess to Charles.’ She glanced at Erik. ‘That’s what I was doing the whole time after I found out – I was talking to Moira, getting her to talk me down. I had no intention of telling Charles anything that night.’

‘She’s telling the truth,’ Moira said quietly, catching Erik’s look of uncertainty. ‘She called me on the phone the moment she knew what had happened because she realised that she would do something stupid if no one talked her down from it.’ She met Erik’s eyes. ‘We were on the phone a long time. By the end, we had planned to find you and force you to tell Charles the truth.’

‘Before we could do that though …’ Emma trailed off, sighing. ‘Well – you know what happened. Before we could do anything, you and the Wonder Twins over there barged in and screwed everything up quite royally.’ She shook her head. ‘It was a disaster.’

‘Seriously,’ Raven added, nodding gravely. ‘You couldn’t have picked a worse way to reveal it if you’d tried.’

Erik’s ears went red. ‘You weren’t even there,’ he snapped irritably, feeling somehow even worse now that he knew that Emma had never intended to tell Charles in the first place.

‘I was there in spirit,’ Raven said loftily, raising her chin. ‘And believe me, these guys have painted me quite the picture of how things went down. I feel like I was there myself.’

Erik muttered grumpily under his breath but he didn’t say anything further. Even he wasn’t foolish enough to think that antagonising Charles’s beloved baby sister was a very wise move to make. ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ he grumbled instead. ‘I came in and saw Charles and he looked upset. You can’t blame me for thinking that you had already told him everything.’

Moira frowned. ‘Charles was upset?’ she asked, cocking her head. ‘I didn’t know that.’ She turned to Emma. ‘What was he upset about?’

Emma shrugged. ‘Beats me,’ she said, sighing. ‘It wasn’t anything to do with me. I doubt it’s relevant.’

Erik wasn’t so convinced but he let the matter drop. ‘So,’ he said instead, gazing around at the three women in front of him. ‘Are any of you going to tell me what you are actually doing here at any point or do I have to start guessing?’

There was a pause as they all stared at each other.

‘We’re here to make things right,’ Emma said at last, speaking carefully. ‘We’re here because we care about Charles and because your friends care about you and because we all believe that this is in the best interests of everyone involved.’ She met Erik’s eyes. ‘We’re here to help you make peace with Charles, Erik’ she said quietly, causing Erik to stare at her in surprise.

‘I just want to make this clear though,’ Moira said coolly, butting in before Erik could react to that. ‘I don’t like you, Lehnsherr. I’m not sure I ever will. As far as I’m concerned you’re an asshole who doesn’t know how to treat other people right. But,’ she faltered slightly, ‘I can’t deny that Charles likes you. He likes you a _lot_. And so – I’m doing this for him.’

‘ _We’re_ doing this for him,’ Emma corrected lightly, meeting Erik’s eyes. ‘We’ve been talking, the three of us, you see, and we’ve come to a decision: we are willing to give you another chance.’

‘ _You_ are willing?’ Erik said dryly, unable to stop himself. ‘Forgive me, but it’s not exactly _your_ favour that I’m asking for.’

‘But it’s a start,’ Raven said evenly, unperturbed by his tone. ‘Believe me, without our agreement there’s no way that you would even get a foot in the door with Charles.’

Erik regarded them all with a frown, feeling slightly wary. ‘But why?’ he asked at last. ‘Why are you doing this? None of you even like me – I doubt that you want me near Charles, either. So why – why are you doing this?’

Emma and Moira looked at each other.

‘Because Charles has been miserable without you,’ Moira said at last, sounding slightly tired. ‘Because the spark seems to have gone out of his eyes.’

‘Because he _misses_ you,’ Raven added, looking almost sad. ‘He won’t say it, but I can tell, when we talk. He’s quiet and unhappy and the only reason that he would be that way is because of _you_.’

‘Don’t mistake us,’ Emma said coolly, drawing Erik out of his stunned surprise. ‘We still don’t trust you – not when you have already hurt him so much.’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘However,’ she said slowly. ‘We’re all well aware of the circumstances of your … relationship and we realised something.’ She paused and regarded Erik meditatively. ‘You haven’t actually ever _dated_ Charles. You’ve been friends and you’ve had sex, but you’ve never actually been a couple.’ Her expression flickered and her jaw tightened. ‘The three of us are rather hoping that this means something. That it might make a difference in the long run.’

‘Though if you hurt him again we’re still going to cut your balls off,’ Raven added easily, beaming at him from out of the screen.

Moira nodded towards Raven. ‘What she said,’ she agreed, sounding almost pleasant.

Erik shook his head, still unable to comprehend what was happening. ‘So – so you want – what?’ he asked, almost helplessly.

The three of them traded glances. Even Raven got in on the act, twisting her neck towards Emma and Moira, for all the good that it would do.

Moira let out a sigh. ‘The thing is – Charles has been miserable,’ she said frankly, not seeming to care that she wasn’t directly answering Erik’s question. ‘ _Really_ miserable. In fact, I haven’t seen him this forlorn since Raven first left for Paris.’

Raven beamed at that, apparently more than a little pleased to hear that her leaving had elicited such misery from her brother.

‘Let’s be honest here, sugar,’ Emma said, shaking her head. ‘This time it’s worse. At least he was talking to Raven back then.’

Moira nodded, looking grave. ‘It’s like we said,’ she said quietly, looking at Erik. ‘He _misses_ you. Badly. He won’t say it, but we can all tell.’

‘Frankly, it made us all think,’ Emma said, sighing a little. ‘We … finally managed to put things together.’

‘What things?’ Erik demanded, torn between hope and curiosity and sheer frustration, while knowing full well that he had no right to be feeling any of those things. ‘What are you talking about?’

Emma and Moira shared a glance.

‘We realised that Charles likes you,’ Moira said at last, sounding almost reluctant. ‘A lot more than he should, quite frankly. And, more to the point, a lot more than he’s liked anyone in – well – _ever_.’

‘It’s true,’ Raven nodded, looking thoughtful. ‘In fact, for the longest time I thought that _you_ were his boyfriend, not Steve.’

Erik started at that. ‘Why would you think that?’ he asked quickly, trying to slow the beating of his heart.

Raven huffed out a laugh. ‘Well, look at it this way,’ she said dryly. ‘I’ve heard maybe two words about Steve since they started dating, and I only heard that much because Charles was drunk at the time.’ She met Erik’s eyes. ‘On the other hand all I’ve heard him talk about for the past six months is _you_. Erik said this, Erik likes that, Erik, Erik, Erik.’ She sighed. ‘It was kind of obvious, really, when you think about it.’

Moira and Emma added murmurs of agreement.

But Erik was shaking his head. ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ he said, his back tense. ‘What – what are you saying?’

There was a pause.

‘What we’re saying,’ Moira said slowly, choosing her words carefully. ‘Is that above everything, we want Charles to be happy. And you – for some reason, Lehnsherr – you make him happy.’

When Erik still did not seem to understand, Emma rolled her eyes.

‘Charles is a sweetheart,’ she said matter-of-factly, meeting Erik’s gaze. ‘But he’s also a dumb little puppy. Being the dumb little puppy that he is, he doesn’t always understand what is best for him. Which is why we are here doing what we are doing.’

Erik frowned but Emma continued, heedless.

‘You see, part of the problem is that he always keeps his cards close to his chest. So close that sometimes even he can’t see the hand he’s carrying. It’s not the small things he keeps quiet about, you understand – it’s the important things. The things that _matter_. It’s as if he thinks that he has no chance of ever getting what he wants. Raven can testify to that.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Raven nodded sagely. ‘That’s Charles all over.’

Emma sent Raven a gracious nod before turning back to Erik. ‘So you see why our interference is necessary. We are here because Charles can’t be. Or won’t be. Or doesn’t know he _wants_ to be.’ She paused. ‘But that’s not what you want to know, is it?’ 

Erik shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Emma’s face.

Emma sighed. ‘Then I’ll be plain,’ she said, her expression serious and her eyes boring intently into Erik’s. ‘Charles doesn’t fall in love easily. He likes people but – for the most part – he always keeps a bit of distance. Especially with his lovers. _Always_ with his lovers.’ She paused. ‘With you though … I’ve never seen him like this. None of us have. I can’t say I’m happy about it, but Lehnsherr – he _loves_ you. He honestly does, even if he doesn’t realise it himself. It’s awful, and dreadfully misplaced, but – there you are. He loves you.’

Erik’s back had gone ramrod straight at her words and he was staring at Emma in disbelief. ‘You can’t know that,’ he said after a long, tension-filled moment. He shook his head. ‘You – you’re assuming things. You can’t be certain of this. You can’t. You just can’t.’

The three women stared at him.

‘… You’re an idiot,’ Emma said bluntly.

‘Agreed,’ Moira added.

‘Thirded,’ Raven nodded. Then she rolled her eyes. ‘Honestly, you are talking to the three people on earth who know Charles best and – right now? – we are all in agreement about this. Do you know the probability of all three of us being wrong? Close to _zero_. So believe it, sunshine – we’re right about this.’

Erik shook his head. ‘But it doesn’t make sense,’ he said, frowning. ‘Why on earth would Charles want me when-’

‘When you’re such a shithead?’ Raven asked brightly. ‘God knows, but then Charles has always been kind of weird like that.’ She paused. ‘Also, there’s sort of the fact that you love him too.’

Erik choked. ‘What?’ he asked, coughing slightly and glaring at the screen where Raven was giving him a smug smile. ‘Who told you that?’ He blinked and realised that he hadn’t exactly voiced a denial. ‘What makes you think that?’ he corrected himself, glaring down at Raven.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Raven said, shrugging easily. ‘But apparently it’s been obvious to everyone and their mother that you’re head over heels for Charles, so I’m taking that as a given. Plus Moira and Emma totally think the same, and _they’re_ always right about everything.’

‘Right,’ Erik said dubiously. ‘If you say so.’ Then he shook his head. ‘But even if you are right about this – about _me_ – then … what do you want me to do about it?’

Emma, Raven and Moira stared at him.

‘Let’s see,’ Emma drawled. ‘We tell you that Charles likes you. We tell you that you like Charles. We then tell you that we give you our blessings. What _more_ do you want us to do exactly?’

‘Well,’ Erik frowned. ‘You still haven’t said what’s supposed to happen with-’

‘For crying out loud, Lehnsherr,’ Moira rolled her eyes. ‘We’re telling you to go and find Charles and tell him everything. _Everything_. Every last dirty little secret in your skeleton-filled closet. And then you tell him you love him and beg him on bended to give you a chance.’

‘But-’

‘And you let him kick your ass,’ Raven added, nodding wisely.

‘And you don’t give up,’ Emma continued, crossing her arms and eyeing Erik. ‘Whatever happens.’

They all paused then and regarded Erik, who was sitting there quietly in front of them, a deep wrinkle creasing the centre of his brow.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. However, when he was sure that they weren’t going to say anything else he slowly lifted his head and looked each of them in the eye. ‘And what about Steve?’ he asked quietly.

There was silence. Raven blinked while Moira and Emma shared a guilty look, grimacing.

‘I said,’ Erik said tightly, ‘ _What about Steve?_ ’

Still there was no answer.

Erik’s mouth twisted. ‘Yeah,’ he said bitterly, giving them a humourless smile. ‘That’s what I thought.’

‘We just didn’t-’ Moira began but she was cut off.

‘Save it,’ Erik said shortly, his jaw clenched as he rose from his seat. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

‘Wait,’ Emma said, her eyes narrowing as she watched him get up. ‘Where are you going?’

Erik shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, moving out of the booth so that he was stood just beside the table. ‘Home? Somewhere else? I don’t know.’ He paused and met Emma’s eyes. ‘What I do know, though, is that I’m not going to screw things up for Charles any more than I already have. Whether or not you think that Charles and I are meant to be together is irrelevant. He and Steve are together now and Steve is a hundred times the person I will ever be. He is the better choice for Charles. He is the better _man_. I – I am not going to spoil that for Charles. I can’t do that to him. I _won’t_ do that to him.’

‘Oh,’ Moira said in quiet surprise, looking at Erik as if suddenly seeing him for the first time.

Erik made to leave at that but then he paused for a moment, hesitating, before then turning back to them. ‘I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate what you are doing,’ he said haltingly, frowning down at the table and not meeting anyone’s eyes. ‘But – I’m done plotting behind Charles’s back. I’m done with trying to push him into something he doesn’t want. I don’t care what you _think_ he wants,’ he added hurriedly as Emma opened her mouth. ‘I just – I want him to be able to make up his own mind about this without anyone pushing him in any direction. And if that means that I need to leave him alone while he makes his decision then so be it. If it means that he decides that he never wants to see me again –’ He swallowed, his breath catching painfully in his chest. ‘Then … so be it.’

And with that he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Emma, Moira and Raven staring after him in surprise … and perhaps even a little respect.


	20. Chapter 20

The next few weeks passed slowly and were, for better or for worse, completely uneventful. Although Erik managed to finally pull himself out of his state of abject drunkenness and into the world of sobriety (if meeting Moira, Emma and Raven had been good for at least one thing, then it was providing Erik with the impetus to get sober), he still appeared relatively detached from the world around him and the days that came after saw him in a strangely quiet and thoughtful mood. To outsiders he might have appeared to be back to normal, but to Alex and Hank, who had now come to know Erik better than almost anyone, he was unable to hide the fact that he was still completely and utterly miserable.

The two of them tried their best, in those weeks, to bring Erik out of his self-imposed shell but, although they tried their best, they unfortunately didn’t meet with any real measure of success. Erik had, thankfully, forgiven them for their role in the catastrophe with Charles – although Hank still looked a little nervous whenever he and Erik were left alone together for even a short period of time – and he didn’t appear to hold any sort of lingering resentment towards them. In a way, though, this was worse – instead of directing his fury outwards it was now all pointed inwards, and even Alex, who didn’t have a Masters degree in psychology, could see that this was the reason why Erik was now so subdued in his interactions. The difference in his attitude was more than a little unnerving, and both Hank and Alex felt it keenly.

‘You know, I really don’t want to say it,’ Alex muttered to Hank one point, after Erik had merely raised an eyebrow at him when he had knocked over a beer glass and caused it to shatter, ‘Because it’s the kind of shit that got us into this whole mess in the first place – but, man, seriously – Erik really needs to get _laid_.’

‘You’re right,’ Hank answered smoothly, and when Alex turned to look at him he glanced back, looking thoroughly unimpressed. ‘That _is_ the kind of shit that got us into this mess in the first place.’

Alex grimaced. ‘Right. So next time I’ll just …’

‘That would be wise.’

‘Got it.’

In truth, both Hank and Alex were well aware that getting Erik laid would do nothing for his mood, and neither would any of the other hundred things that they did to try to cheer him up. There was only one person in the world who could do anything to bring a real smile back to Erik’s face and that person was, as far as they knew, huddled up with his boyfriend on the other side of town and determined to have absolutely nothing to do with Erik if he could help it. 

Unfortunately, Erik knew this all too well. In fact, he was unable to forget it.

‘It’ll get better with time,’ Hank said quietly to Erik one evening when Alex was busy tending the bar and Hank had caught Erik standing listlessly in the back room, looking blankly into the mirror on the wall. ‘You’ll be fine. You’ll – you’ll find someone to be happy with. I know it.’

‘Maybe,’ Erik had replied, his voice just as soft and measured as Hank’s. ‘But then _they_ won’t be Charles.’ And then he had promptly walked out.

He had been having conversations of a similar nature with Alex and Hank ever since he had come back to work, and although he appreciated that they were trying to make him feel better, he knew that if he stood there and listened to their earnest yet completely misguided comfort for more than a few seconds at a time then he would be forced to do something that he would regret, like strangling one or both of them. 

Because the truth was, they didn’t understand. Neither of them did. Not at all. Anyone who told Erik that he would be able to get over this and find someone in the future obviously didn’t get it. Anyone who said anything like that couldn’t possibly understand that the only person in the world for him was Charles and that if he couldn’t have Charles then no one else mattered.

The thought was, quite frankly, a depressing one. Erik would honestly rather not feel the way that he was feeling, but he couldn’t help it. The feeling was part of him now and there was nothing that he could do to get rid of it. And so he was slowly resigning himself to wallowing in misery and regret for the rest of his life, and coming to accept the fact that he would be spending the rest of his years alone, living with the knowledge that he had once had happiness in his grasp but had foolishly, stupidly let it go. 

Peace, as far as he could see, was not an option.

And so he went on existing, doing his best to keep his mind off Charles but knowing that it was impossible. He did keep his resolve to avoid drink, however. He had allowed himself that weakness in the beginning but he had no intention of hitting that low ever again. He needed to learn how to deal with the pain he was feeling without self-medicating; if he didn’t, he knew that he would probably end up being reliant on alcohol for the rest of his life and he did not mean in the way that came from making his living as the owner of an alcohol-vending establishment.

He had to admit that having Hank and Alex around at this time was surprisingly helpful. While he could very much do without their solicitous enquiries about his well-being and their not-so-subtle hidden looks of anxiety whenever he failed to take their heads off over any small mistakes that they made, he nevertheless appreciated their solidity and the unwavering nature of their support. Having them around made the loneliness he felt somewhat bearable, and for that he was grateful. The minor irritations he could otherwise ignore – it wasn’t as if he was unused to the two of them acting strangely around each other, after all.

This strangeness, however, seemed to reach new levels when, just over a month after Erik’s breakdown, he walked into _Genosha_ with the intention to set the bar up for the evening only to find Alex and Hank waiting for him by the door instead of the backroom, the two of them almost vibrating with an odd mixture of anxiety and impatience.

‘There you are!’ Alex burst out the moment that Erik walked through the door, an expression of relief on his face. ‘Man, I thought you’d never get here!’

Erik lowered his keys and raised a cool eyebrow at them. ‘You two do realise that I’m not _supposed_ to be here, right?’ he said wryly, giving them a pointed look. ‘And that it is Alex’s turn to set up the bar? The only reason _I’m_ here is to make sure you two idiots don’t screw things up worse than usual.’

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that,’ he muttered. ‘Pretend that you’re not actually here because you’ve got nothing better to do.’

‘Or that it’s because you don’t want to help,’ Hank added, only for Erik and Alex to turn to him with identical looks of scepticism on their faces. ‘Never mind,’ he muttered, looking down at the floor.

‘Yeah, never mind,’ Alex repeated, suddenly perking up with an odd look of determination. ‘We’ve got more important things to talk about than whether or not the word “help” is in your personal dictionary.’ He paused, before amending, ‘Or rather, _you_ have more important things to talk about.’

Erik frowned. ‘While _that’s_ certainly true,’ he said dryly, ‘I really don’t have the slightest clue what either one of you idiots are actually talking about.’

‘You’ll see,’ was all that Alex would – rather ominously – say, before catching hold of Erik’s arm and all but tugging him across the bar. Erik, more bemused than annoyed, found himself allowing Alex and Hank to jostle him across the floor and towards the backroom of the bar.

‘What-’ he began to ask when they got to the door, only to be interrupted by Hank.

‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ Hank said seriously, pushing open the door to the room and looking Erik straight in the eye.

Somewhat discomfited, Erik turned to Alex, who merely shrugged.

‘Good luck,’ was all he said before abruptly releasing Erik’s arm and, without warning, giving him an unceremonious shove in the back and pushing him into the room. By the time Erik had regained his footing, the door had slammed shut and – if the noise that followed was any indication – the bolt was drawn, effectively locking him inside.

‘Hey!’ Erik let out a noise of outrage and was about to raise his fists to pound on the door when – 

‘Erik?’

Erik froze. Slowly, his heart beating harder than it ever had before, he turned around, half hoping and half fearing that his ears had deceived him.

They hadn’t. 

There, standing at the other end of the room, with a slightly uncertain expression on his face, was Charles.

Charles, who Erik had thought had never wanted to see him again.

Charles, who was now in the backroom of Erik’s bar, waiting to speak to him.

All thoughts of being unwillingly locked in a room by Alex and Hank disappeared from his mind in an instant.

‘Charles,’ he breathed, unable to believe his eyes, moving one foot forward and raising his hand without thinking. He then abruptly became uncomfortably aware of every single part of his body and he froze, not knowing what he should do with himself. He yearned to reach out and touch Charles, hold him – make sure that he was _real_ and not just a product of Erik’s desperate imagination – and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do that, couldn’t bring himself to reach out only to be rejected – or worse, flinched away from.

‘Erik,’ Charles said again, allowing his mouth to crook up in a wry smile.

Erik had no idea why Charles would even be doing that much but if that was the only sort of smile that he would ever be getting from Charles then he would damn well take it.

‘… Hello,’ he said awkwardly, for the lack of anything else to say. _I love you_ , was, after all, most certainly not the right thing to open with, regardless of how true it might be.

Charles dipped his head, acknowledging the greeting. ‘Sorry for intruding like this,’ he said a little formally, scratching the back of his neck. ‘I know you’re about to open the bar up. I can come back if it’s not-’

‘No, no, it’s fine’ Erik said immediately, assailed by a sudden flare of panic at the thought of Charles leaving. He took a deep breath and then, calming down, allowed himself a wry smile. ‘Besides, it’s not as if either one of us can get out right now.’ He indicated the door with his head at Charles’s look of confusion. ‘The two morons outside seem to have locked us in.’

Charles blinked. ‘Oh,’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘I hadn’t realised they’d locked it.’ He frowned. ‘I assure you, though, it’s not at all necessary. I am the one who came here, after all – I’m hardly likely to flee before I’ve said my piece.’

‘Of course,’ Erik nodded, wincing in anticipation of what Charles probably wanted to say to him. He couldn’t imagine that it would be anything good, although he wouldn’t deny that Charles probably needed to say it and that Erik, on his part, definitely needed to hear it. He cleared his throat and lifted his chin, bravely deciding to get it over with. ‘Well – what did you want to say?’

Charles blinked, as if surprised by the directness of the question. ‘Oh,’ he said, pausing for a few brief seconds. ‘Well, I-’ he once again scratched the side of his neck. ‘You’ll have to forgive me while I find my words. I had a whole speech planned out on my way here, but I find …’ he glanced briefly up at Erik, ‘I find that I quite lost the thread of it here when you came in.’

Erik took a deep breath. Perhaps now he could finally do what needed to be done on his part. ‘Well then,’ he said, straightening up and steeling himself. ‘Maybe I’d better start, then. If you’ll let me.’

A cautious expression fluttered across Charles’s face and he bit his lip. ‘Yes,’ he said after a moment, nodding carefully as he studied Erik’s face. ‘Yes … perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it is best if you start, after all.’

Erik let out a sigh of relief at that. He knew that an explanation on his part was long overdue, never mind that Charles hadn’t wanted to hear it before. Now he had the chance to explain – to _grovel_ – and he was going to take it. Even if he never saw Charles again after this, he could at least safely say that he had been able to apologise and clear Charles of all doubt about what had happened, and that would be one less burden for Erik to carry on a back that was already loaded down with mistakes and regrets.

He took a deep breath. And then he met Charles’s eyes. ‘Charles, I am sorry,’ he said, not allowing himself to duck away from the clear blue gaze in front of him. ‘I know you must be tired of hearing it, but I am.’ He huffed out a dry laugh. ‘I’m even sorry for having to say that I am sorry so much – because the fact that I need to means that I have hurt you and Charles-’ Erik swallowed. ‘Charles, I _never_ want to hurt you. Never. I know that after everything that I have done you might find it hard to believe, but that is the truth. I never intended to be deliberately hurtful, I promise you-’ He paused and shook his head. ‘But now I realise that the ignorance and stupidity and _carelessness_ that I showed in my behaviour towards you was just as hurtful as if I had deliberately intended to be cruel. And I am sorry.’ His eyes bore into Charles. ‘I am more sorry than I can possibly say.

‘There are no excuses for my actions, I know that now. All I can say is that the – the bet that I made was done as if in another time by another person. Because I _am_ a different person now, Charles, and the person that I am – the person that _you_ have helped me become – such a person would never do to anyone what I did to you. What I did was inexcusable, and I know that now. So, what I wanted to say is that – I am sorry; but I also wanted to say,’ Erik took a deep breath. ‘I wanted to say _thank you_.’ Charles’s head jerked up. Erik, feeling extremely raw and vulnerable, nevertheless forged on in determination. ‘I wanted to say thank you,’ he repeated, ‘because even if you hate me and curse me and never want to see me again, knowing you has been the best gift that I could ask for. I never realised it, but – I wasn’t _happy_ before I met you. I thought I was, but I wasn’t. With you, though – with you I was not only happy, but I was _better_. I was a better boss, a better friend – a better _person_ … And Charles – whatever may have happened – _that_ I wouldn’t change for anything.

‘So, what I mean to say,’ Erik finally ducked his head, unable to withstand Charles’s intense gaze for much longer. ‘Is that even though you may regret our friendship and wish that you had never met me, I, for my part – Charles … I will always, always be thankful that I have known you.’

He stopped after that. He wanted to say more – so much more – but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to. And maybe that was for the best.

Charles did not react immediately to his words. He was silent, and when Erik chanced a quick glance at his face, he could see that his expression was one of deep thought and pensiveness. The silence between them persisted for a while, until at last Charles let out a sigh and he raised his head.

‘Well,’ he said after a long moment. ‘I won’t pretend that I am surprised to hear you say all that … but I am glad.’ He dipped his head. ‘Thank you, Erik, for saying those things to me. It … means a lot.’

Erik swallowed and nodded, looking down at his feet. Any moment now, Charles would be walking out of the room to leave him forever, and Erik – well. Erik would not stop him.

‘In truth,’ Charles began again, causing Erik’s head to shoot up once more. ‘Your words have merely confirmed for me what I had already suspected.’

Erik frowned, not quite knowing how to react to such a statement. ‘You … already suspected?’ he repeated, feeling caught off-foot.

Charles nodded slowly. ‘Yes,’ he said, choosing his words carefully. ‘About what – what happened. With the bet.’ He met Erik’s eyes. ‘You said that your actions were that of another man in another time. And – well, that is what I had thought.’ He dropped his eyes. ‘It is what I had hoped,’ he said quietly.

Erik nodded tightly, his throat too dry to speak.

Charles continued. ‘I was angry when I first heard about the bet – of course I was. I was furious. It has been a long time since I had ever felt so angry and – if I am honest – the strength of it quite caught me by surprise. It wasn’t just that your actions were low and abominable and unacceptable-’ Charles frowned and looked away. ‘It was that _you_ of all people had done it, and even though I knew that I shouldn’t expect too much of you and I _knew_ what you were like – hearing about what you did still struck a blow to me that I wasn’t quite prepared for.’ He huffed out a humourless laugh and sent Erik a wry look. ‘Quite frankly, I was rather appalled at the fact that I allowed you to hurt me again quite so much.’

Erik looked away, ashamed.

‘I felt like that for an awfully long time,’ Charles said honestly, still looking at Erik. ‘I was well aware that you were trying to find me and apologise to me, but to be honest I wasn’t at all prepared the listen.’

‘I understand,’ Erik said quickly, and then immediately snapped his mouth shut, irritated with himself for interrupting.

‘Yes,’ Charles nodded vaguely. ‘In any case, it took me a while to actually _want_ to think about the incident again. Not just out of hurt, you understand,’ he gave Erik a rather self-deprecating smile. ‘I have to admit that the Xavier pride played quite a big part in things. I felt humiliated, you see, and if there is just one way in which I take after my mother it is in the matter of pride – I inherited more than my fair share of _that_ , as my sister will be all too happy to tell you.

‘So yes – it was some time before I could bring myself to examine things logically, and once I did … well, once I did then I suppose I could see things from your perspective. Not that I at all condone your behaviour,’ he added quickly, narrowing his eyes at Erik. ‘Because what you did was appalling – that is unarguable. But what I came to see was that your behaviour … well, it wasn’t your _current_ behaviour, if that makes any sense. I was so used to you being so very … _sweet_ , I suppose the word is, that to hear about the bet came as something of a shock. It was completely out of character of the man that I had come to know over the recent months. And, as I thought about it, I realised that that was truer than I realised.’ He met Erik’s eyes. ‘The behaviour of the man who made that bet – well, it wasn’t the behaviour of the man that I knew. The man who had made that bet was the same man who had so callously dismissed me the day after we had slept together – on the very same night that the bet was made.’ He paused. ‘But the man I saw after that – the man I know _now_ – that is a completely different man. The two are not one and the same.’ 

Erik felt his breath catch in his chest and he hardly dared to move.

‘I forgave you once before for your behaviour,’ Charles said slowly, frowning in concentration. ‘I forgave you for being the man that you had been. After that, as far as I was concerned, you had a blank slate – a slate completely free of everything that came before that. My judgement of you would be based on everything that happened after that and your ability to be a better man than you had been.’ He paused. ‘And then you hurt me again.’

Erik ducked his head, closing his eyes.

But Charles wasn’t done. ‘The thing is,’ he said hesitantly, his voice quiet. ‘The thing is – I had been operating under the impression that I had been wrong. That you hadn’t changed. That you hadn’t become a better man than you were. But then I realised – it _wasn’t_ you who had hurt me. Not the current you. It was the _old_ you, the same one who had hurt me before … before I had given you a second chance.’

Erik looked up, uncertain of what Charles was saying.

‘So you see,’ Charles was looking at him earnestly, his eyes very wide and blue. ‘You _didn’t_ disappoint me. Not really. I gave you a second chance, asking – no, _demanding_ that you do better this time – and you _did_. Every moment since then has shown you to be a kind, decent man with a good heart – and you have never failed me on that. I found out about the bet you made, yes, and it does hurt me greatly, of course – but if I am to judge you solely on the man you have become then I cannot hold it against you. Or at least,’ Charles’s voice lowered. ‘I find that I do not want to.’

Erik stared at him dumbly.

Charles winced. ‘I confused you, didn’t I?’ he asked, grimacing. ‘I’m sorry, I know what I was saying sounds like a lot of nonsense – I promise you, it made sense in my head – it’s just that-’

‘No, no,’ Erik said quickly. ‘It – it made sense to me. I think.’

‘Good,’ Charles looked relieved. ‘I – I’m glad.’

‘Although maybe,’ Erik cleared his throat. ‘Maybe you could be a bit more … explicit about what you’re saying?’

‘Oh,’ Charles shook his head. ‘Yes, of course.’ He took a deep breath. ‘What I’m saying is – I forgive you.’

Erik stared at him. ‘What?’ he asked blankly.

‘I forgive you,’ Charles said simply. ‘It doesn’t erase what you’ve done, not by any means, but I do understand that what happened was in the past and that your main mistake was that you did not tell me about the bet when you had the chance.’ He paused. ‘It _was_ a mistake, wasn’t it?’ he asked, slightly suspiciously. ‘I mean, I assumed, but I don’t actually-’

‘It was a mistake!’ Erik agreed hurriedly. ‘Believe me, Charles, I had meant to tell you everything. I thought I _had_. I had no intention of keeping anything from you at all, I swear it.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Charles said with a hum, his muscles relaxing. ‘After everything else that you’d done and confessed to … it didn’t make sense that you would keep something like that from me.’

Erik closed his eyes briefly, letting out a sigh of relief. Then he chanced a glance at Charles. ‘So,’ he said after a moment, feeling slightly brave. ‘Does this mean … we can be friends again?’

Charles’s expression tightened at that, his brow furrowing. 

‘Just friends,’ Erik said quickly, desperate to reassure Charles. ‘Nothing more – I promise. I won’t ever ask you for more than that.’ He swallowed before pressing on, determined to see this through. ‘You and Steve belong together, Charles,’ he said, even as he felt a heaviness settle in his chest. ‘He’s perfect for you in ways that I will never be and he can make you a lot happier than I would ever be able to. The two of you deserve each other. I – I’m sorry I ever thought any different.’

Charles, however, was now frowning even harder than before. Erik felt his heart sink.

‘I mean it,’ he persisted, feeling slightly anxious. ‘I think you and Steve are perfect for each other. You – you fit each other well,’ he finished lamely.

‘Ah.’ Charles was still frowning and looking at the ground. It looked like he wanted to say something but he didn’t quite know how to say it. ‘That … might not be quite as true as you think,’ he said, his tone deliberately light. ‘You see, the thing is …’ he looked up and gave Erik a wry smile. ‘Well – Steve and I broke up.’

Erik didn’t react for a moment. He simply stared at Charles. ‘… What?’ he asked in a slightly strangled voice after some semblance of control had returned to his vocal cords. ‘Just – what?’

Charles was carefully studying the wall opposite him. ‘Steve and I broke up,’ he said evenly, not quite looking at Erik. He shrugged. ‘Quite some time ago, actually.’

Erik opened his mouth and then shut it. ‘But you-’ he shook his head, confused. ‘You and he … You’re both –’

‘We’re _friends_ ,’ Charles said gently, finally turning to look at Erik, an almost kindly look on his face. He shrugged. ‘Quite good friends, really.’

‘But –’

‘We both realised a long time ago that we made much better friends than lovers,’ Charles interrupted him quietly before Erik could go on. ‘We had both realised it almost from the start, although neither one of us acknowledged it for a while. When we finally managed to rustle up the courage to actually tell each other, however, things became a lot easier.’ Charles smiled then. ‘He really is a splendid fellow, Steve. A true gentleman, in every sense of the word – and, believe me, you don’t see a lot of those around nowadays.’ He paused. ‘Also, you probably won’t believe me when I say this, but he really does have the most _wicked_ sense of humour.’

Erik still looked completely befuddled. ‘But – but you moved in with him!’ he protested, as if determined to dispute Charles’s words till the last. ‘You went on _dates_.’ Then, because it was the main thrust of his argument, ‘You _moved in_ with him!’

‘Only temporarily!’ Charles said quickly. ‘I just – needed some space, you know? And I couldn’t get that what with you hanging around all the time.’

Erik grimaced. ‘Right,’ he said, trying to suppress the redness infusing his cheeks. ‘Of course.’

‘It was just one friend staying with another friend,’ Charles said reassuringly, although Erik had no idea why he would care about giving _him_ any such reassurances. ‘Steve made the offer and – as you know – I accepted. It was good to get away for a short while,’ he added pensively. ‘It allowed me time to think.’

‘Then I’m glad,’ Erik said, his tone earnest, before quickly adding, ‘That you had time to think, that is – not that you and Steve broke up.’

Charles’s mouth twitched. ‘Of course,’ he said neutrally, although there was an odd glint in his eyes that could possibly be attributed to stifled amusement.

Erik shook his head, distracted, trying to put all the questions rushing through his brain in some sort of order. ‘So,’ he said, trying to focus, ‘You and Steve have really been … _just friends_ for some time then?’

Charles nodded.

‘Right,’ Erik nodded slowly. Then he frowned. ‘So – wait,’ he said, his brow furrowed. ‘Hold on. What about Emma? And Moira?’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘If you and Steve had broken up such a long time ago then why didn’t _they_ tell me about it? Why didn’t they use it to try to convince me to come after you again? It would have been a lot more convincing than anything else that they had said.’

Charles shuffled slightly at that. ‘Oh, yeah, well,’ he said awkwardly, biting his lip. ‘That might be because … I didn’t tell them.’

Erik blinked. ‘What?’ he asked, not quite understanding. He shook his head. ‘But – I thought you told them everything!’

Charles snorted at that. ‘Oh, they’d certainly like to think so,’ he said dryly. ‘But the truth is, neither Steve nor I were very keen to deal with them and their smugness or their disapproval or whatever ridiculous way that they’d choose to deal with our break-up, so the two of us made a mutual decision to just – well – not tell them about it.’

‘Huh,’ Erik still looked bemused. ‘That’s … unexpected.’

‘Well, those two are a bit _too_ invested in my love-life, if you know what I mean,’ Charles said with an awkward smile. ‘I don’t know why, but there you are.’

‘I know a bit of what that feels like,’ Erik thought about Alex and Hank’s avid interest in his relationship with Charles and hid a smile. ‘I don’t envy you though – Moira and Emma alone would be hard enough to deal with, but together … not to mention your sister …’

Charles smiled. ‘Well,’ he said, shrugging. ‘You get used to it. All you have to do is just keep your mouth shut and go along with whatever they say. It’s simple enough. As I’m sure you’ll find out sooner or later.’

‘I will?’ Erik gazed at Charles blankly.

‘Well, of course,’ Charles said pleasantly, his tone deliberately light. ‘Any friend of mine is a friend of yours, after all. And you’ve already made progress in getting them to tolerate you, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Clearly, you’re getting the hang of it.’

Erik didn’t know how to respond to that, so he simply stared at Charles, his eyes full of heartfelt gratitude and earnest wonder. Charles met his eyes and held his gaze for a moment but then the overwhelming feeling conveyed in Erik’s eyes seemed to become too much for him and he glanced away, a red flush suffusing his cheeks.

‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Erik murmured, looking at Charles with something like awe. ‘How you continue to have faith in me … even after all we have been through. How you can continue to believe in me when you should by all rights just give up on me.’

‘I never want to give up on you, Erik,’ Charles said seriously, looking up at that. ‘I know the man that you are capable of being – that you _are_ – and as long as I see that in you I will never give up on you.’

Erik dipped his head, feeling humbled. ‘Then I will try my best to never give you reason to, he said meeting Charles’s eyes so that Charles could see the sincerity in his words.

‘I believe you,’ Charles said, smiling slightly. ‘And really, that’s all I can ask in the end, isn’t it?’

‘You could ask anything of me,’ Erik said immediately, rather more earnestness trickling into his words than perhaps he had intended. ‘Anything, Charles. I mean it.’

Charles quirked a smile at that. ‘Yes, well,’ he said, raising an eyebrow at Erik. ‘That goes both ways, you know.’ He then cocked his head to the side and plastered a charming smile on his face. ‘So … is there?’

Erik frowned. ‘Is there what?’ he asked, confused.

‘Anything that you wanted to ask me,’ Charles answered, rolling his eyes almost fondly. ‘I’m sure there must be.’

In truth there were a hundred things that Erik wanted to ask Charles about the time they had spent apart and about his relationship with Steve, but at the moment there was absolutely nothing that came to mind.

‘There’s nothing,’ he said honestly, shrugging. ‘I honestly can’t-’ He then paused as a memory suddenly assailed him. ‘Wait, wait,’ he said, frowning. ‘There _is_ one thing.’ He paused as Charles cocked his head in interest. ‘What happened that night at _Hellfire_? Why were you so upset that night? _Before_ I ruined things, I mean. You and Steve were in the corner and you – you looked so unhappy … I thought for sure that you knew about the bet, that Emma had already found you and told you …’

‘Oh,’ Charles frowned in understandimg. ‘That.’ His brow creased and for the first time he looked genuinely uncomfortable. He glanced at Erik, deliberating for a moment, and then took a deep breath. ‘I honestly don’t know if I ought to be telling you this, really, since it doesn’t actually have anything to do with our situation, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s pretty simple, really. The reason I was upset that night was because Steve had just told me something, and … well, let’s just say that I wasn’t too happy to hear it.’

‘What did he tell you?’ Erik asked, curious in spite of himself.

Charles grimaced. ‘He told me that he was thinking about re-enlisting,’ he said, rubbing at his forehead tiredly. ‘In the army, I mean. And – well, it came as a bit of a shock, I suppose. He hadn’t given any indication that he had been considering it. He’d never given any indication that it was something that he would even _want_.’ Charles’s lips curved downwards. He then turned to Erik with a sad smile. ‘So that night … well, you can probably understand that I was a little upset at that thought of losing a good friend.’

‘Of course,’ Erik blinked, not knowing how to react. He hadn’t been expecting that at all. ‘I … had no idea.’ He shook his head. ‘Is he bent upon re-enlisting?’ he asked carefully.

Charles shrugged, looking slightly miserable. ‘I don’t know,’ he said sadly, shaking his head. ‘He said it was just an idea that he’d had, but the way he was saying it … I just don’t know. I know that it’s selfish, but – I don’t want him to go.’

Erik nodded, unable to say anything.

‘I can’t help thinking, though,’ Charles swallowed tightly, ‘That maybe if I could have – if we were _more_ , then maybe – maybe then he wouldn’t be thinking about –’

‘You can’t think like that,’ Erik said sharply, interrupting Charles and glaring at him. ‘That’s an idiotic thing to say, Charles, and you know it. Both you and Steve came to a mutual agreement to part ways and there is nothing that you could do to change the way you feel – or _don’t_ feel – for each other.’ 

Charles’s shoulders hunched together at that.

Erik grimaced and took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Charles,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I don’t mean to be harsh. I just – I don’t want you to blame yourself for something that’s not your fault.’ He lowered his head. ‘I’ve already made you do that far too much for my liking as it is.’

That made Charles straighten up. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he chided him loyally, and when Erik looked up, he sent him a small grin. ‘Obviously I never blamed myself. I blamed _you_.’

Erik grinned weakly in return. ‘It’s no more than I deserve,’ he murmured.

Charles hummed but he neither confirmed nor denied the statement. 

There was a moment of stillness where the two of them just stood there in slightly awkward silence, not saying anything.

Finally, Charles shifted and glanced towards the door. ‘Well,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I’ve pretty much said everything that I intended to say, I think …’

Erik looked down at the floor, biting his lip so that the mountain of things that he wanted to say to Charles didn’t all spill out.

Charles looked strangely disappointed by his silence. ‘Well then,’ he said, his eyes dimming slightly as he fidgeted aimlessly with his hands. ‘If that’s all …’

Erik didn’t look up.

‘Then I’ll just …’

And suddenly Erik couldn’t keep quiet. He had kept things quiet for long enough, and some things – _one_ thing – just needed to be said, even if only once.

‘I love you, you know,’ he said abruptly, his tone rough. He forced himself to stand straight and not look away from Charles’s suddenly wide eyes. ‘I know I’ve never said it to you before, but – I’m in love with you. I have been, I think, for a very long time.’

Charles was staring at him, his eyes wide and round, looking completely taken aback. ‘Erik,’ he whispered, looking shocked.

Erik frowned at his reaction. ‘Surely this can’t come as a surprise to you?’ he asked, feeling concerned. ‘Surely you – you _knew_.’

But Charles was shaking his head. ‘Oh, Erik,’ he said, his voice strained. ‘No. I – I didn’t know.’

Erik once again felt a wrench in his heart, a lance of self-loathing at the fact that he hadn’t made it perfectly clear to Charles how he felt about him, that he hadn’t shown Charles just how wonderful and special he was. 

‘Erik,’ the way that Charles said his name made Erik look up. ‘Oh Erik – why didn’t you _say_?’

 _Because I was a coward_ , Erik wanted to say. ‘Because I thought you knew,’ he said instead, honest. ‘I – everyone else seemed to know,’ he said rather haplessly, feeling his cheeks warm again at the thought. ‘I suppose that I … thought it was obvious.’

‘Not to _me_ ,’ Charles said with a slightly strained laugh. He ran his hands through his hair, staring at Erik as if he were some strange, exotic creature. ‘Perhaps Raven is right – maybe I _am_ blind to the things around me.’ He shook his head and tilted his head at Erik. ‘ _Everyone_ knew?’ he asked in a small voice.

Erik gave him a rueful nod, still feeling wrong-footed by Charles’s reaction. ‘Pretty much,’ he admitted. ‘Alex, Hank, Emma, Moira … your sister.’

‘Raven?’ Charles yelped, staring at Erik, incredulous. ‘How on earth does _she_ know anything about you? How do _you_ know anything about _her_?’

‘You’ll have to ask Moira and Emma about that,’ Erik said, shrugging. ‘In answer to _both_ those questions.’

Charles rolled his eyes at that. ‘It figures,’ he muttered, looking exasperated. He shook his head. ‘I just wish they would have told _me_.’

‘ _I_ should have told you,’ Erik said quickly. ‘I shouldn’t have just assumed that-’

‘ _I_ should have realised it,’ Charles interrupted him, looking apologetic. ‘I should have paid more attention.’

Erik hesitated. ‘Didn’t you have any idea?’ he asked at last, unable to help himself. ‘Surely you must have known _something_. You couldn’t _not_ know anything about how I felt about you.’

Charles fidgeted slightly. ‘Well, I knew you were attracted to me,’ he said, shuffling his feet. ‘But that was only in the beginning and I thought that was just a – a _physical_ attraction.’ He looked down at his toes. ‘And then we became friends and I thought … well, I thought that you weren’t attracted to me anymore. And that – that we were just very good friends.’

Erik stared at Charles in disbelief. ‘You thought that I had stopped being attracted to you once I got to know you better?’ he demanded, incredulous. ‘Charles …’ he shook his head. ‘Getting to know you made me love you even more! How could you even think that I had stopped being attracted to you?’

Charles shrugged, but his face looked slightly red. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, looking down and not meeting Erik’s eyes. ‘I just – you didn’t seem interested any more, that’s all.’

Erik reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I didn’t want to push you,’ he said, closing his eyes and grimacing. ‘I thought that any sort of … overture from me would be unwelcome and would drive you away from me.’ He met Charles’s eyes. ‘And it was much better to be your friend than to be nothing to you at all.’

Charles sighed and his eyes flickered shut for a brief moment. ‘What a pair we make, he murmured, shaking his head. ‘All this time I thought … and then when I learned that the only reason you had slept with me that first time was because of a _bet_ …’

‘It wasn’t the only reason,’ Erik said hurriedly. ‘Never the only reason. And I can’t say how s-’

‘I know,’ Charles waved him off. ‘You’re sorry. I understand it now.’

‘Right,’ Erik said, feeling awkward. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. He still didn’t know what Charles thought about his sudden revelation of feelings. ‘So …’ he said after a moment, hesitant. ‘Are you … okay?’

Charles blinked. ‘Okay?’ he repeated.

Erik squirmed. ‘With me,’ he clarified, feeling slightly mortified. ‘After … what I said. Can we – we can still be friends, right?’

‘Friends?’ Charles repeated, still sounding as if he didn’t understand.

Erik swallowed. ‘I understand if you don’t want to,’ he said quickly. ‘I know how this could make things awkward. But it doesn’t have to. My feelings are my own – I’ll keep them to myself, I promise. It changes nothing.’

‘What?’ Charles shook himself then, staring at him wide-eyed. ‘Erik, how can you – Erik, this changes _everything_!’

‘No, it doesn’t!’ Erik protested, feeling agitated. ‘We can continue just as before, you and I, Charles – as friends, _brothers_. We don’t need to let this affect us. You can – you can just pretend that things are normal and I – I’m sure I’ll get over it.’

Charles stared at him. ‘Get over it?’ he parroted, looking startled. They stared at each other for a moment. Then Charles’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. ‘Oh, Erik,’ he said gently, looking at him with a strange softness in his eyes. ‘Why on earth would I want you to get over it?’

‘Um …’ Erik looked at him dumbly. ‘Because – because …’ _Because you are not that cruel_ , he wanted to say, but he didn’t. ‘Why _wouldn’t_ you?’ he asked at last, unable to say anything else. 

‘Well,’ Charles said slowly, avoiding Erik’s eyes and looking down at the floor. ‘Because then – then I’d be alone.’

Erik’s forehead wrinkled and he looked at Charles, puzzled and incredulous, but Charles was already continuing. 

‘And,’ he said carefully, still not looking at Erik. ‘Unrequited love is quite a terrible thing, as I’m sure you know.’

‘Wait, wait,’ Erik shook his head, his heart suddenly pounding and his brain suddenly completely and utterly blank. ‘What are you – unrequited ... what?’

Charles turned to him with an arched eyebrow. ‘Think about it for a moment,’ he said quietly, watching Erik intently. ‘Do you really not know?’

Erik shook his head. ‘I – I really don’t know _what_ to think,’ he said, trying not to allow the burgeoning hope in his chest to overwhelm him. He then met Charles’s eyes almost desperately. ‘But Charles – Charles, please … don’t play with me.’

Charles’s eyes softened at that. ‘Oh my friend,’ he said gently. ‘I’m not.’

Erik swallowed at that. Then – hesitantly, bravely, daringly – he lifted his hand and slowly, carefully brought it up to Charles’s face, where it hovered scant centimetres away from his skin. 

Neither of them moved for a moment. 

Then, slowly, his eyes never leaving Erik’s, Charles moved that small distance and then his cheek was being cradled in Erik’s palm and the two of them were smiling, soft, slightly shy smiles directed straight at each other.

‘I-’ Erik started after a moment but Charles headed him off.

‘I wanted us to try,’ he said in a quiet voice, his eyes still fixed on Erik’s. ‘Properly, this time. With both of us knowing how things stand. I wanted us to have that chance.’

‘But after everything I did,’ Erik gasped out, still unable to believe it. ‘After everything that I’ve put you through – how can you … _why_?’

Charles gave him a small smile before shaking his head. ‘You _changed_ yourself for me, Erik,’ he said quietly. ‘You said that I helped you to grow – that I helped you to become a better person … Erik, there is no better compliment in the world than that. Even if I had felt nothing for you before – though, of course, I did – how could I resist you after that?’

Erik just stared wonderingly back at Charles. ‘You’re a better man than I,’ he said, shaking his head and closing his eyes. ‘To allow yourself to trust even after everything.’ He leaned forward so that his forehead was leaning gently against Charles’s. ‘I don’t know what I did to deserve your faith, but I am glad of it.’

Charles sighed and pressed forehead, his own eyes flickering shut at the touch. ‘This doesn’t mean that things are going to go back to the way things were,’ he said quietly, his forehead pressed against Erik’s, his eyes closed. ‘We can’t go on the way that we have been, Erik. We need to make some changes – the both of us. We need to take this slow.’ He opened his eyes and looked up then, meeting Erik’s gaze. ‘We need to do it better, this time around.’

Erik gave him a small smile at that and, reaching out, clasped Charles’s warm hand in his. ‘Oh my friend,’ he said quietly, squeezing Charles’s fingers with his. ‘This time around we’ll be nothing less than _perfect_.’

*****

When Alex opened the door to the backroom ten minutes later, he took one look at the two of them and then beamed.

‘Fucking _A_ ,’ he said, before then turning around and walking back the way he had come, smile still wide on his face.


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! This fic has finally come to an end! This epilogue is slightly random and completely self-indulgent but I hope that you all enjoy it anway.
> 
> Thanks so, so much to every single person who has read and commented on this - I couldn't have finished this without you. Special mentions go to everyone who first read this on the kink meme all those years ago. I finally finished it!! :D
> 
> Again - thanks for keeping me company on this. You've all been fab <3 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Six months later …_

 

There was a buzz in the air as the sea of bodies drifted around _Genosha_ , the usual quiet murmurs replaced, for the night, with laughter and noise and movement. People were clustered about on the floor in loose, easy knots and somewhere in the background Sean Cassidy was murdering a song by The Cure but somehow Erik found that he really couldn’t bring himself to mind. Tonight wasn’t about what _he_ wanted, after all. 

He turned and glanced fondly over at where Charles was deep in conversation with Moira and his sister, his arms gesticulating wildly as he talked. Raven’s arrival had come as a complete surprise – to Charles, at least – and that, even more than the party, had made the day that much more special for him. He had said as much when clutching Raven close in his arms, unwilling to let her go, but Raven had just laughed and shook her head at him.

‘As if I would have missed my big brother’s surprise birthday party,’ she said in fond reproach, before diving back in for another massive bear-hug.

Raven wasn’t the only one who had turned up, either. Apart from the usual suspects – Alex, Hank, Moira and Emma had all helped to plan the party (which is to say that Emma and Moira had taken charge and Alex and Hank had done their best to keep up) – there had been dozens of people who had showed up, from Charles’s colleagues at the university to Darwin the coffee-shop employee that Erik had met in the campus café oh-so-long ago.

One of the most pleasing – and surprising – additions to the list had been Steve Rogers. Erik had invited him out of courtesy (not that he and Steve didn’t get on – after an awkward second meeting the two decided to settle their differences and had soon become firm friends) but he had not expected that Steve would be able to attend, what with his busy schedule. Somehow, though, Steve had managed to obtain leave from his unit even at a very short notice (Erik had found himself taking a moment to genuinely wonder what exact rank Steve held in the army) and so there he was, much to Charles’s delight, and the evening was, in Erik’s humble opinion, turning out to be quite a success.

Erik’s meditations were cut off when a warm shoulder brushed against his. 

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Charles murmured, glancing up at him with a smile.

Erik felt his heart skip a little, in the way that it usually did whenever Charles looked at him like that. Whenever Charles _looked_ at him, period.

‘Oh, nothing,’ he answered, shaking his head and returning the smile. ‘I’m just … happy,’ he said, and he was surprised to find that it was the truth.

Charles gave him a knowing look, before smiling again and leaning into his shoulder. ‘I’m glad,’ he said simply, cu  
rling an arm around Erik’s and linking them together. ‘And – just for the record – I am, too. Happy, that is. Positively delirious, in fact.’

Erik felt a surge of warmth in his chest at that. He pressed himself closer against Charles’s side, revelling in the touch. ‘Well, let me assure you,’ he murmured, brushing the tip of his nose against the shell of Charles’s ear, ‘that the sentiment is completely mutual.’

Charles let out a hum of contentment at that and for a moment the two of them just stood there, leaning against each other, their arms linked in a companionable silence. Just as Erik was beginning to settle into it, however, Charles made a small noise of discontent that had Erik immediately jerk his head up, alert.

‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded, eyes narrowing as he cast an assessing look around and prepared himself to bodily evict whoever or whatever was disturbing Charles from his bar. After all, today was Charles’s birthday. _Nothing_ was allowed to ruin Charles’s birthday, not even for a millisecond.

Charles blinked in surprise at Erik’s reaction. ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ he said, waving him off, but Erik was not convinced.

‘You made a noise,’ Erik said, undeterred. ‘I heard you. You were unhappy about something.’

‘I was hardly _unhappy_ ,’ Charles protested. When Erik looked slightly disbelieving he rolled his eyes. ‘Honestly, Erik, you worry too much. I wasn’t _unhappy_ – I was merely … _contemplative_.’

Erik just looked at him.

Charles’s shoulders slumped. ‘You’re determined to make sure that I’m never unhappy for even a second, aren’t you?’ he said with a sigh, resigned, although his expression was warm and inexpressibly fond. ‘You tyrant.’ When Erik simply raised an eyebrow in response, Charles sighed and again rolled his eyes. ‘Fine,’ he said, and then jerked his head over to the other side of the room. ‘Over there.’

Erik quickly glanced up and looked over at where Charles had indicated. He frowned when he didn’t see anything even vaguely alarming. ‘What am I looking at?’ he asked, squinting his eyes.

‘Alex,’ Charles answered crisply, nodding towards the figure in question. ‘Or, to be more specific, Alex and Hank.’

Erik looked again and frowned. ‘But they’re nowhere near each other,’ he said, confused.

Charles rolled his eyes. He seemed to do that an awful lot around Erik. ‘ _Exactly_ ,’ he said, as if that was the point. ‘Look again. Closer, this time.’

Erik sighed and directed his attention back to the scene in front of him. Alex was behind the bar, his attention focused on pouring out a drink … only, as Erik watched, he realised that perhaps the action wasn’t occupying his _whole_ attention. Because every now and then, Alex would sneak a glance up and his eyes would only fall on an object across the room. And that one object was, surprisingly – or _not_ surprisingly, as the case may be – Hank.

Hank, who was currently stammering and blushing as Charles’s sister Raven gently flirted with him, her hair a blonde halo around her ridiculously pretty face (because _ridiculous_ was the only way to describe the stupid attractiveness of the Xavier siblings, Erik felt). As Erik watched, however, he saw Alex’s expression take on a rather pinched look and he scowled before directing his eyes back to the bottle in his hands. Two seconds later, however, as if he were unable to stop himself, his eyes were once again back on Hank, his expression growing cloudier by the minute.

‘It’s a pity, isn’t it?’ Charles murmured in his ear, again leaning into his side. ‘That not everyone is as happy as we are …’

Erik, who to be honest really didn’t give a damn about the happiness of anyone other than himself and Charles, nevertheless found himself making a noise of agreement in response. 

‘It’s just a shame, you know,’ Charles continued in a slightly tragic tone that fooled absolutely _no one_ , ‘That not everyone managed to sort themselves out at the same time that we did …’

‘Charles,’ Erik said warningly.

‘And I really did want _everyone_ to have a good time on my birthday …’ Charles sighed, his expression looking ridiculously forlorn.

Erik eyed Charles for a moment, feeling slightly exasperated. Then he turned to look at Alex and Hank. Then he turned back to Charles. ‘You really want this?’ he asked after a moment, feeling oddly resigned. ‘You really want to get into this?’

Charles just smiled and blinked up at him, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

Erik sighed. ‘Fine,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Since it’s your _birthday_.’ He pulled himself away from Charles. ‘Wait here,’ he said, before then turning and walking determinedly towards Hank.

Neither Hank nor Raven noticed his approach until Erik was right in front of them. 

‘You should definitely show me around your lab sometime,’ Raven was saying with a smile, leaning forward into a pink-cheeked Hank’s space. ‘You can show me how to play around with a microscope.’

‘Kinky,’ Erik murmured, stepping in between the two and causing Hank’s cheeks to go from pink to a deep scarlet.

‘Erik-’ he stammered, ‘I was just – Raven and I were-’ He made to continue but one pointed look from Erik was enough to put an end to his blushing and verbal fumbling.

When there was no longer any danger of Hank speaking and embarrassing himself further, Erik addressed him again. ‘I need you to into the backroom and bring out the thirty-year-old Glenfiddich,’ he ordered, letting his eyes bore into Hank so that he would have no choice but to obey. ‘I need you to do it right now.’

Hank blinked, slightly taken aback. ‘But I don’t know where that is!’ he protested, his face falling.

Erik remained unmoved. ‘So go _look_ ,’ he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Hank opened his mouth but then he took one look at Erik’s expression before promptly spinning around and hurriedly walking across the room as fast as he could.

Erik allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. He still had it. 

He turned around, then, ready to leave, only to be halted by a deeply unimpressed look from Raven.

‘You’re a dick,’ she said flatly, crossing her arms and scowling at him. In that moment, blonde hair and all, she reminded Erik very much of Alex – which, if he thought about it, explained a few things. ‘Couldn’t you see that I was in the middle of something there?’

Erik shrugged. ‘It was for the best,’ he said, sounding completely unapologetic. ‘The two of you would never have worked out. You’ll thank me in the end.’

Raven scowled at him but after a moment her expression turned thoughtful. ‘Is this about that blond asshole behind the bar who keeps staring at me like he wants to glass me in the face with a beer bottle?’ she asked, causing Erik to look at her in surprise. She rolled her eyes at his expression – so _that’s_ where Charles got it from, Erik mused – before raising an eyebrow at him. ‘It’s actually kinda hard not to notice when someone’s trying to incinerate you through the sheer power of their eyes,’ she said dryly.

Erik’s mouth twitched upwards almost in spite of himself. He had talked to Raven several times over skype but her arrival at Charles’s party was the first time that he had met her in person, and, he was almost surprised to find, he actually liked her even better in the flesh than he did on screen.

‘Sorry about disturbing you and Hank,’ he said instead, deciding to apologise even though he wasn’t actually all that sorry. ‘It really wasn’t my idea. You can blame your brother for that.’

Raven’s mouth twisted up in a slow smirk. ‘Oh, I bet,’ she said, unable to hide her grin. She then gave him a significant look. ‘I’m sure you realised pretty quickly that there’s a manipulative evil genius mastermind underneath that pretty face of his, huh?’

Erik shrugged but he didn’t deny it. ‘I find it attractive,’ he said honestly.

Raven rolled her eyes. ‘I bet you do,’ she murmured. She fell silent for a moment. Then, pausing, she turned and narrowed her eyes at Erik. ‘Just out of curiosity, though – _is_ Hank really fetching out a bottle of thirty-year-old whisky for you?’

Erik regarded her coolly. ‘You honestly think that I would keep something that expensive where either one of those two idiots could get their hands on it?’ he asked, raising a pointed eyebrow in her direction.

Raven blinked at him, before her eyes widened in something like appreciation. ‘Shit,’ she said feelingly, her mouth pulling up at the edges. ‘No wonder you find Charles attractive when he’s being a manipulative bastard – that’s because _you’re_ one too!’

Erik just smirked at her before turning around and silently making his way over to where Alex was sullenly wiping down a wine glass. 

‘You need to get some more red wine from the back,’ he said, coming to a halt in front of Alex, who looked up from the glass with a frown.

‘There’s a case of the stuff right there,’ he grunted, indicating a space behind him and then going back to polish the glass, ignoring Erik as best as he could.

Erik didn’t like being ignored. He allowed his mouth to pull up into a toothsome smile. ‘I _said_ ,’ he spoke deliberately, leaning forward to display every single one of his teeth, ‘ _You need to get some more red wine from the back_.’

Alex deliberately set down the glass and turned to glare at Erik. ‘Seriously?’ he demanded, scowling at him. ‘There’s about half a dozen bottles _right there_!’

Erik crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Then go get a different case out,’ he said firmly, unrelenting.

Alex glared at him. Erik stared back, unmoved.

They stayed like that for a whole minute.

Alex, of course, was the first to give in. 

‘God, you’re such a _dick_ ,’ he muttered, scowling at the floor and stomping off towards the backroom as Erik watched in satisfaction. ‘I mean, seriously, I’m not even technically on _duty_ today, it’s a fucking party, what the hell …’

Erik followed him quietly until he reached the backroom, Alex completely unaware of his movements. Erik then paused, waiting until Alex stepped over the threshold and walked a few paces in – before then darting forward, grabbing hold of the handle, and slamming the door close and locking it.

There was a belated squawk from Alex that was swiftly followed by a series of loud bangs on the door. Luckily, Cassidy’s wailing from the other side of the room mostly blocked the noise from being heard by all but a few. 

‘Erik!’ Alex sounded genuinely pissed off, even through the thick wood of the door. ‘What the _fuck_ , man? What the hell are you doing?’

‘Something I should have done a long time ago,’ Erik responded calmly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a string of condom packets. ‘Here,’ he said, shoving them underneath the door. ‘Have fun. And don’t forget to disinfect the place afterwards.’

There was a rustle from the other side as Alex bent to retrieve the packets from the floor. Then there was a strangled sound as he realised what they were. ‘Jesus – what the _fuck_ -’ 

But Erik was already walking away, a smirk on his face, his eyes fixed firmly on Charles as he made his way back to him.

Charles was waiting for him with a raised eyebrow. ‘You do know that I only wanted you to _talk_ to them, right?’ he said dryly as Erik approached him.

Erik just grinned at him and shrugged, unrepentant. ‘They did it to _us_ ,’ he said, completely unabashed. ‘It’s only fair that they get a taste of their own medicine.’

Charles’s eyebrow rose even further. ‘I don’t recall them shoving a line of condoms under the door for us to use,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest.

Erik shrugged. ‘What can I say?’ he said lightly. ‘I’m a thoughtful person.’

Charles snorted at that but he nevertheless looked amused. ‘You do know that there’s a good chance that they might not even use them,’ he said, glancing up at Erik. ‘There’s a good chance that nothing might come of it at all. Locking people together in a room isn’t exactly a scientific solution for anything, you know.’

Erik shrugged again, unconcerned. ‘It worked for _us_.’

‘That’s _different_.’

‘Yes,’ Erik agreed. ‘It is. We aren’t nearly as idiotic as _those_ two are.’

Charles huffed out a laugh at that, shaking his head. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’ He then paused and sent Erik a sideways look. ‘I mean it, though. There’s still no guarantee that it’s going to work.’

Erik folded his arms over his chest and regarded Charles evenly. ‘They’ll be spending a long time alone together in a room full of alcohol and condoms with only themselves for company,’ he said dryly. ‘There’s really only _one_ realistic outcome in that situation.’

‘Oh really?’ Charles raised his eyebrow at that. ‘And yet somehow when _we_ were locked together in that room we were the epitome of chastity and restraint.’ He paused, thoughtful. ‘Granted, we didn’t have the condoms, but still – the principle remains the same.’

Erik glanced down at his feet. ‘Yes well …’ he said awkwardly, ‘That’s _different_.’

Charles looked amused at the mimicking of his earlier words. ‘Oh?’ he asked, crossing his arms in a deliberate mirror of Erik’s pose. ‘How so?’

Erik’s mind was unfortunately blank and he fumbled around for something to say but before he could come up with anything he was rescued by the sound of someone – a _loud_ someone – calling Charles’s name.

‘Charles! Hey, Charles! Charlie-boy!’

Charles frowned slightly at the sound of his name and glanced up in curiosity. His eyes then widened in delight and, strangely enough, his cheeks went a little pink. He quickly turned to Erik. ‘Um – I don’t suppose that I ever got around to telling you about this … _friend_ I had when I was at university?’ he asked quickly, biting his lip in a rather distracting way.

Erik’s brow furrowed. Across the room he could see a man making his way over to them, a determined expression on his face.

Charles’s face was still red. ‘You know – I’m _sure_ I told you about this – the one with … the one I used to … on and off, every now and then when things were slow … _you_ know.’

Erik’s expression became even more perplexed. ‘Charles? I’m not sure I follow …’

Charles opened his mouth but at that moment the new arrival appeared by his side and suddenly Charles was enveloped in an enormous hug.

‘Charles!’ the man squeezed him tightly. ‘How’s my Charlie-boy? Man, I’ve missed you.’ Then, to Erik’s shock and horror – and Charles’s mortification – the man spun Charles around and started talking to his arse. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve missed you _too_ , sweet-cheeks! I can’t wait to be reintroduced …’

Charles managed to extricate himself from the ( _Pervert! Sexual deviant! Villain!_ Erik’s mind roared) man and turned to face Erik, his cheeks bright red.

‘Erik,’ he said, though even embarrassment couldn’t keep the smile off his face. ‘Erik, I would like you to meet one of my best friends from university – Tony Stark. Tony, this is my – this is my Erik.’

Tony gave Erik an appraising look. ‘This is your Erik, huh?’ he said easily, reaching forward to clap Erik on the back. ‘Just what do you do for young Charlie here, then, Charles’s Erik?’

Erik lifted his chin and eyed Tony in the coldest manner possible. ‘I’m Charles’s _boyfriend_ ,’ he said stiffly, taking a step closer to Charles, unaware of the way his eyes abruptly softened at Erik’s admission.

Tony blinked at that. ‘Is that so?’ he asked, clearly doing little to hide his scepticism. ‘Well, sorry to say this, pal, but you must have got the wrong end of the stick there. Because I happen to know for a fact that Charles here doesn’t _do_ boyfriends or girlfriends or icky long-term relationships. Neither of us do. We made a pact. Pinky-swore and everything.’

Erik folded his arms over his chest. ‘Maybe _you_ don’t,’ he said firmly, eyeing Tony with dislike. ‘But I can assure you that Charles very much _does_.’ He met Tony’s eyes and refused to look away.

Tony still seemed sceptical but he nevertheless looked to Charles for confirmation. At Charles’s proud, pleased nod, however, he abruptly jerked back.

‘Charles!’ Tony looked completely aghast. ‘In a committed relationship? _You?_ Say it ain’t so!’

Charles just smiled and shrugged. ‘We all need to grow up some time, Tony,’ he said almost apologetically.

Tony let out a huff at that. ‘Speak for yourself,’ he sniffed, sounding betrayed. ‘I, on the other hand, don’t plan to sell out. _I_ intend to live up to the full potential of my bachelorhood.’

‘That’s what you say now,’ Charles said mildly.

‘It _is_ what I say now,’ Tony agreed, puffing his chest out. ‘And it’s what I’ll say tomorrow too, and the day after that, and – oh wait – the day after _that_ as well. Times infinity.’

Charles just shook his head. ‘One of these days it will happen to you too, you know,’ he said, teasing him gently. ‘You can’t carry on this way forever, Tony. Sooner or later you will meet someone and it will be like you’ve been hit by a train and you will want to settle down with them too.’

‘Never!’ Tony declared. ‘Me? Settle down?’ He scoffed. ‘Of all the crazy ideas. This is _me_ , we’re talking about, Charles. I’m _Tony Stark_. You won’t catch _me_ settling down any time soon, sweetheart, no way. I’ll still be this up and at it even when I’m ninet– Who is _that_?’

Charles casually glanced in the direction in which Tony was goggling and smiled. ‘Oh,’ he said pleasantly. ‘That’s Steve.’

‘ _Steve_ ,’ Tony breathed out reverently, his eyes fixed on the corner of the room. ‘Who is _Steve_ and where can I get me one of them?’

‘Steve’s my ex-boyfriend,’ Charles said easily, and Tony actually tore his eyes away to look at him.

‘You tapped _that_?’ his tone was one of mixed envy and admiration. ‘Kudos to you, Charlie, I knew you still had it in you.’

‘Oh,’ Charles suddenly reddened, looking at the floor. ‘We didn’t – I mean-’

Both Erik’s and Tony’s eyes snapped to him.

‘Yes?’ Erik asked silkily, his eyes gleaming and his expression suddenly wolfish. ‘What were you saying Charles?’

‘Yeah, Charles, what were you saying?’ Tony’s eyes flicked from Steve to Charles and back again.

‘Only – we didn’t actually have sex,’ Charles said, shuffling his feet. ‘I mean, we did _things_ but – we never actually got around to that.’

‘He’s the take-it-slow kinda guy, huh?’ Tony murmured, considering, watching Steve across the room. 

‘Yes,’ Charles suddenly sounded fierce, his eyes boring into Tony’s. ‘And I’m warning you, Tony, you don’t get to hurt him in this. Steve is a good man, and my friend.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I would very much hate to have to end several years of friendship just because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.’

Tony rolled his eyes and was on the verge of making a joke when he saw Erik give the tiniest shake of his head. Seeming to realise that Charles was indeed serious about this, Tony reached out and put an arm around Charles’s shoulders.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, squeezing slightly. ‘I won’t screw up, Charles, I promise. You have my word.’ His lips then quirked up teasingly and his eyes glinted. ‘You know that I wouldn’t do anything to end our friendship. Who else would I get to join me in downing metre-long beer bongs and joining an all-male strip club?’

Charles flushed bright red while Erik almost choked on his drink. Winking and patting Erik on the shoulder, Tony left to sashay his way over to a poor, unsuspecting Steve. 

‘So,’ Erik said when he’d finally managed to stop choking. ‘A strip club, huh?’

Charles winced but tried to hide it under a slightly pained smile. ‘I was young, and drunk and didn’t know any better,’ he said, grimacing.

Erik looked intrigued. ‘How long ago did this happen?’ he asked, eyeing Charles speculatively.

‘Second year of university,’ Charles said quickly, before then ducking his head and sheepishly peering up at Erik through his eyelashes. ‘And – um … again last year?’

Erik snorted, holding back a laugh.

‘It was a friend’s bachelor party!’ Charles protested, but he was grinning as well.

‘Of course,’ Erik said dryly. He then paused and gave Charles a sideways look. ‘Were you any good?’ he asked curiously.

Charles cocked his head, uncomprehending.

‘At stripping,’ Erik clarified. ‘Were you any good?’

Charles let out a laugh. ‘Oh yeah,’ he laughed breezily. ‘We were quite accomplished, if I say so myself.’

‘Hmm,’ Erik eyed Charles thoughtfully. ‘I don’t suppose you managed to keep any of those skills handy?’ 

Charles’s pupils abruptly dilated and his expression became a little more sultry. ‘Perhaps I will show you tonight,’ he murmured, deliberately brushing against Erik, who swallowed tightly. ‘You know, I always _was_ the most flexible of our little troupe …’

‘Oh?’ Erik moved closer till their lips were millimetres apart.

‘Yeah,’ Charles breathed, smiling, leaning upwards.

‘Well,’ Erik said, smiling at Charles, ‘That’s good to know.’ And then he leaned down and kissed him.

*****

_Two hours later …_

 

‘Dude,’ Sean Cassidy frowned, leaning his head against the locked door of the backroom and listening intently, his eyes bugging wide. ‘Is someone having sex in the backroom?’

Alex glanced up from where he was nestled up against Hank, and turned to look at him. ‘Well it’s not _us_ ,’ he said almost defensively.

‘This time,’ Hank added quickly.

‘This time,’ Alex agreed, and the two of them shared a small, secret smile.

‘Hey, has anyone seen the birthday boy?’ Raven called out from across the room, sounding a little annoyed. ‘We can’t bring out the cake if we don’t have him around to blow out the fucking candles!’

‘I’m sure he’s blowing _something_ ,’ Emma murmured to Moira, and they both broke off into a fit of giggles. They were, without a doubt, completely and utterly drunk.

‘Um … actually I’m right here.’

Everyone turned around to stare at Charles and Erik, who had just wandered in from where they had been taking a breather outside.

‘Don’t look at us,’ Erik said mildly as everyone blinked at them. ‘I’m waiting till we get to a proper bed.’

‘Oh gross,’ Raven shuddered, cringing. ‘That’s my brother you’re talking about, Lehnsherr.’

‘Your brother who is currently _not_ having sex in the backroom, you mean?’ Erik asked with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

‘Who _is_ that?’ Moira asked, unable to reign in her curiosity.

‘Dunno,’ Alex shrugged and looked around. ‘Everyone seems to be accounted for.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Emma said abruptly. Everyone turned to her. She met Charles’s eyes. ‘Where’s Steve?’

Charles’s eyes widened. ‘More to the point,’ he said slowly, ‘Where’s _Tony_?’

As one, everyone’s eyes turned to the door.

‘Well,’ Charles said after a beat, feeling slightly bemused. ‘It’s official.’ He looked over at Erik and gave him a wry smile. ‘That room is _magic_.’

Erik’s lips twitched. ‘Something like that, yes,’ he agreed, running a discreet finger over the key concealed in his pocket. ‘Now,’ he said, changing the subject as he linked the fingers of his other hand with Charles’s, ‘How about that cake?’

Charles smiled at him. ‘Cake sounds good,’ he said softly, squeezing Erik’s fingers in return.

They held each other’s smiles for a moment. Then, as one, they both turned to the centre of the room, and walked back into the welcoming cluster of their friends, their hands still warmly and tightly linked together.


End file.
